*  G  E 


NONAME  SERIES 


NO    NAME    SERIES." 


MIRAGE. 


"  Is  in  many  respects  superior  to  '  Kismet.'  The  story  is  told  with  great  care,  the 
style  is  more  earnest  and  more  vigorous  than  that  of  '  Kismet,'  the  feeling  is  deeper, 
the  tone  higher,  the  execution  smoother,  the  author  more  confident  of  herself,  ar.d 
apparently  conscious  of  increasing  strength,"  siys  the  Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  The  author  is  to  be  congratulated  on  having  made  progress  in  novel-writing,  for 
'  Mirage'  is  certainly  an  improvement  on  '  Kismet,'  and,  above  all,  it  is  a  work  sui 
generis?"1  says  the  London  Atheiiceum. 

"It  was  only  to  be  expected,  and  even  more  to  be  hoped,  that  the  author  of 
'  Kismet '  would  make  a  second  attempt  in  a  field  similar  to  that  in  which  his  first 
laurels  were  won.  We  are  happy  to  say  that  fresh  ground  has  been  broken  with 
remarkable  success,  and  that  '  Mirage '  may  fairly  rank  beside  its  fascinating  prede 
cessor,"  says  the  London  Court  Journal. 

"Here,  too.  we  have  a  group  of  Americans  who  'do'  Syria  instead  of  Egypt. 
Those  readers  —  and  their  number  has  been  many  —  who  found  a  charm  in  '  Kismet ' 
may  take  up  '  Mirage'  without  fear  of  disappointment,"  says  the  London  Graphic. 

'•  '  .Mirage'  is  by  the  author  of  '  Kismet,'  so,  of  course,  we  are  spared  the  trouble 
of  guessing.  It  may  be  set  beside  the  latter  work,  as  the  two  best  novels  of  the 
'  No  Name  Series.'  .  .  .  The  work,  in  some  essential  particulars,  shows  an  advance 
on  'Kismet.'  The  style  is  firmer  and  more  assured,  and  the  characters  exhibit  a 
better  subordination  to  the  author's  design.  These  will  not  be  the  last  works  from 
the  same  pen :  the  author  is  not  mistaken  in  her  vocation,"  says  the  New  Yark 
Tribune. 

"We  had  occasion,  some  months  since,  to  speak  of  'Kismet'  as  a  clever  and 
promising  novel ;  and  we  are  happy  to  be  able  to  say  that  the  author  of  '  Kismet'  has 
redeemed  the  pledge  of  that  work  with  even  greater  promptness  than  was  to  be 
expected.  '  Mirage'  strikes  us  as  very  clever  indeed,  and  as  a  decided  advance  upon 
its  predecessor.  .  .  .  Great  charm  of  description,  a  great  deal  of  fineness  of  observation, 
a  great  deal  of  wit  in  the  conversations,  a  constant  facility  and  grace  of  style,  —  these 
good  points  are  decidedly  more  noticeable.  .  .  .  The  present  book  is  infinitely  fresher 
and  wittier  than  ninety-nine  hundredths  of  the  novels  periodically  emitted  by  the 
regular  group  of  English  fiction-mongers,"  says  the  New  York  Nation. 

In  one  volume,  IGmo.    Cloth.    Gilt  and  red-lettered.    SS1.0O. 


Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  Booksellers, 
not  to  be  found,  send  directly  to  the  Publishers, 


When 


ROBERTS    BROTHERS,  BOSTON. 


SMUlf'S 


OF   BOOKS", 
69S    MAIN  ST. 

.     -        OJUP 


"NO    NAME    SERIES." 

MARMORNE.' 

"  It  is  not,  however,  merely  on  account  of  outward  characteristics  that  we  have 
called  '  Marmorne'  a  remarkable  book.  It  is  also  one  of  the  most  powerful  novels 
of  the  narrative,  as  opposed  to  the  analytical,  class,  that  has  appeared  for  a  long  time," 
says  the  London  Atkencenm. 

"  '  Marmorne '  makes  its  appearance  anonymously  ;  but  we  are  persuaded  that  the 
author  is  no  novice,  and  are  inclined  to  fancy  that  we  recognize  the  hand,  .  .  .  which 
reminds  us  not  a  little  of  'Round  my  House.'  ...  He  has  written  a  novel  which  is 
extremely  fascinating  and  eminently  picturesque,"  says  the  Saturday  Revie-w. 

"  This  can  only  be  characterized  as  a  masterpiece  of  extraordinary  artistic  sim 
plicity.  ...  In  other  words,  it  is  a  plain  narrative  of  events,  written  with  a  skill  and 
a  power  that  are  truly  admirable,"  says  the  London  IVorld. 

"  As  a  whole,  it  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  series  in  which  it  appears,"  says  the 
Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  We  think  no  reader  of  'Around  my  House'  and  'The  Unknown  River'  will 
hesitate  long  as  to  where  to  fix  the  authorship  of  '  Marmorne,'  "  says  the  Boston  Tran 
script. 

"  The  descriptive  passages  in  this  book  entitle  it  to  the  first  rank  in  the  '  No  Name 
Series,'  but  there  have  been  so  many  good  novels  included  under  that  title  that  we  are 
not  quite  prepared  to  say  it  is  the  best.  It  is,  however,  good  enough  to  be  included 
among  the  most  successful  stories  of  the  year,"  says  the  Boston  Courier. 

"  We  will  not  call  this  the  best  story  of  the  '  No  Name  Series,'  because  some  one 
else  is  sure  to  do  it,  each  volume  having  received  that  praise  as  it  appeared.  Cer 
tainly  there  has  been  nothing  better  in  the  series  ;  and,  if  it  is  written  by  an  American, 
it  is  a  clever  performance,  for  it  has  a  thoroughly  foreign  air,"  says  the  New  York 
Herald. 

''  '  Marmorne,'  the  latest  of  the  '  No  Name  Series,'  and  by  far  the  best  of  those 
recently  issued  under  the  title.  It  is  attributed,  and  we  think  without  mistake,  to 
the  accomplished  English  painter  and  art  critic,  Philip  Gilbert  Hamerton.  It  is  a 
clever  book,"  says  the  Hartford  Ctnirant. 

''  The  '  No  Name  Series '  has  had  a  large  reputation  :  the  present  volume  will  add 
new  admirers,  as  it  is  the  best  of  the  series,"  says  the  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"One  of  the  best  of  the  '  No  Name  Series'  which  has  been  thus  far  issued  is  the 
number  now  before  us.  From  the  very  outset  it  yields  the  comfort  afforded  by  the 
touch  of  a  strong  hand.  ...  It  is,  in  any  event,  a  book  which  Hamerton  cannot 
regret  to  have  ascribed  to  him,  as  it  is  full  worthy  of  his  genius  and  reputation,"  says 
the  Chicago  Tributu. 

In  one  volume,  16mo.     Cloth.    Gilt  and  red-lettered.     $1.00. 

Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  Booksellers.  When 
not  to  be  found,  send  directly  to  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS,   BOSTON. 


NO    NAME    SERIES. 


GEMINI. 


NO    NAME    SERIES. 

"Is  THE  GENTLEMAN  ANONYMOUS?  Is  ME  A  GREAT  UNKNOWN?" 

DANIEL  DERONDA. 


GEMINI. 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 
1878. 


Copyright,  1878, 
BY  ROBERTS  BROTHERS. 


"  Some  have  beautiful  well-rounded  lives;  others 
only  supplementary  lives,  woven  in  here  and  there  with 
other  peoples ',  to  eke  them  out  where  they  are  wanting, — 
never  quite  blended  with  any  one  life,  or  taking  a  com 
pleted  form  of  their  own.  These  do  not  look  quite^  so 
satisfactory,  — perhaps,  because  we  do  not  see  enough  of 
them;  they  are  citrves  of  grander  circles,  that  pass  out 
of  our  ken."  —  OLDBURY,  by  Annie  Keary. 


2061746 


GEMINI. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  But  on  and  up,  where  Nature's  heart 
Beats  strong  among  the  hills." 

RICHARD  MONCKTON  MILNES. 

r  I  "'HE  town  of  Beebury  was  very  small:  so 
limited  in  area,  that,  from  the  first  farm 
house  on  Honey  Hill  to  the  last  saw-mill  in 
Hive  Hollow,  was  a  distance  of  only  five  miles ; 
so  insignificant  in  population,  that,  beginning 
with  Gran'sir'  Collins,  who  would  be  ninety-six 
next  Thanksgiving  time,  and  ending  with  Mrs. 
Jehiel  Baker's  week-old  baby,  it  could  not  num 
ber  quite  seven  hundred  souls.  A  pitifully  small 
place  indeed,  and  quite  ashamed  of  itself  as 
recorded  in  the  last  National  Census,  but  —  there 
are  always  compensations — you  could  walk  all 
over  it  in  a  summer  day,  see  all  over  it  from 
the  belfry  of  its  one  "meeting-house;"  and  every 


8  GEMINI. 

family  in  it  was  personally  known,  if  not  re 
lated,  to  every  other  family.  Everybody  knew 
everybody  else's  history,  and  was  interested  in 
everybody  else's  affairs.  A  grief  on  the  Hill  in 
the  morning  was  a  grief  in  the  Hollow  before 
night ;  a  joy  in  the  Hollow  was,  with  equal 
certainty  and  promptness,  a  cause  of  rejoicing 
on  the  Hill. 

Elder  Mason,  the  well-beloved  pastor  of  the 
one  parish,  was  able  to,  and  did,  visit  each  of  its 
families  twice  a  year,  and  took  tea  with  them  all 
once.  Everybody  was  known  by  his  or  her 
"  given  name ; "  and  the  intricacies  of  relationship 
and  intermarriage  were  such  as  to  bewilder  the 
brain,  and  defy  the  comprehension  of  any  one 
not  born  and  bred  in  the  place. 

One  keen  November  night,  every  mother,  at 
least,  in  the  little  town,  was  lying  awake,  and 
praying  for  the  Elder's  wife ;  and  when,  in  the 
early  dawn,  the  rattle  of  the  Doctor's  gig  was  heard 
on  the  frozen  road,  many  a  window  was  raised, 
many  a  head  thrust  out  into  the  bitter,  stinging 


GEMINI.  9 

cold:  a  curious  variety  of  heads,  —  in  all  sorts  of 
wrappings,  hastily  snatched  from  bed  or  chair ; 
heads  in  home-woven  blankets  of  blue-and-white- 
bar  pattern ;  heads  in  quilted  petticoats  or  plaid 
shawls,  in  stuffy  "  comfortables,"  in  red-flannel 
nightcaps  with  ear-pieces  ;  and  one  poor,  good 
old  soul  was  actually  wrapped  in  the  braided 
rag-mat  snatched  in  her  hurry  and  excitement 
from  beside  her  bed.  But  the  friendly  darkness 
hid  all  these  eccentricities.  There  was  great 
variety  in  the  voices  too :  but  the  Doctor  knew 
them  all ;  and  the  most  notable  fact  of  the  affair 
was,  that  from  all  these  differing  heads  and  vary 
ing  voices — from  Deacon  Sawyer's  big,  white 
house  on  the  green  to  the  "  Widder  Flanders's  " 
in  the  Hollow  —  came  the  same  question;  and 
this  it  was,  "Any  news  up  to  the  Elder's,  Doc 
tor  ? "  And  back  to  all  came  the  same  hearty 
reply,  "  Twin  girls  ;  and  all 's  well !  " 

"  Jiminy !"  cried  the  old  woman  in  the  rag 
mat,  with  unconscious  aptness. 


10  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER   II. 

"  A  Mother  in  Israel.'1'' 
"  So  sways  she  level  in  her  husband's  heart."  — TWELFTH  NIGHT. 

HHHE  excitement  that  prevailed  throughout 
the  village  on  the  following  day  had  not 
been  equalled  since  the  memorable  occasion, 
three  years  before,  when  the  Elder  had  brought 
his  wife  home,  a  stranger  to  all,  a  "  slim,  cityfied, 
little  thing,"  whom  he  had  met  when  teaching 
in  a  Southern  State  to  pay  his  college  expenses. 
The  transplanted  flower  had  never  taken 
kindly  to  the  cold  and  rugged  soil  to  which  her 
husband  brought  her ;  had  never  been  popular 
among  the  people,  except  with  the  younger  girls. 
The  deacons  and  other  wise  men  shook  their 
heads  on  the  very  first  view  of  her  delicate,  in 
sipid  face,  and  childish  figure.  "  The  Elder 's  a 


GEMINI.  1 1 

master-fine  scholar,  but  dretful  onpractical," 
they  said.  "  He  'd  better  get  a  glass  case,  if 
he  'spects  to  keep  that  little  creetur."  Their 
wives  looked  askance  at  her  fashionable  dress 
and  tiny,  white  hands,  and  remarked,  "What 
an  awful  pity  't  was  he  hadn't  a-picked  out  one  of 
the  girls  in  his  own  choir,  —  some  one  that 
knowed  the  ways  of  the  place,  and  could  turn 
off  a  day's  work  and  go  to  sewin'-circle  too." 
But  the  Elder  was  satisfied.  Shy,  reserved, 
absent-minded  scholar  that  he  was,  he  never 
knew  that  his  house  was  not  tidily  kept,  that 
his  meals  were  ill  cooked,  and  his  linen  less  well 
mended  than  when  Samanthy  Ann  Jackman  had 
kept  every  thing  "  redd  up,"  in  his  bachelor 
days.  He  never  suspected  that  his  wife  was 
"lazy,"  or  "shif'less,"  or  "sickly,"  or  "one  o' 
the'  do-nothin',  complainin'  kind."  To  him,  she 
was  ever  lovely,  ever  fair  and  young  and  perfect. 
He  never  blamed  her  for  want  of  sympathy  in 
his  parish  work,  never  suspected  that  she  was 
not  content,  never  wearied  of  her  little  songs, 


1 2  GEMINI. 

her  childish  prattle,  her  doll-like  beauty.  No 
matter  if  he  found  the  kitchen  fire  out,  and  sup 
per  unprepared,  when  he  came  home  from  a 
long  round  of  visits  in  a  wet  day.  It  was  no 
hardship  to  him  to  bring  in  wood  and  water, 
and  to  cut  the  bread  because  "  her  hands  were 
not  strong  enough ; "  to  go  down  cellar  for  the 
pie  and  butter,  because  she  "  was  so  afraid  of 
toads ;  "  to  knead  the  bread,  even,  because  she 
"never  could  make  it  light."  No  ;  he  would  do 
all  this  cheerfully,  and  feel  well  repaid  by  one 
kiss  from  her  pretty  mouth  on  his  sallow  cheek  ; 
one  loving  touch  of  her  inefficient,  little  hand  on 
his  lanky  hair.  And,  though  any  one  of  his 
brother  ministers  in  the  county  could  have  told 
him  that  his  wife  was  "  no  companion  for  him, 
quite  shallow  in  fact,  and  the  wonder  was 
what  he  could  see  in  her  to  attract  him,"  —  they 
were  restrained  by  the  simple  dignity  of  his 
character,  the  touching  completeness  of  his  de 
lusion,  and  never  betrayed  their  opinions,  nor 
did  he  ever  suspect  them.  As  little  did  he 


GEMINI.        *  13 

know  what  Doctor  Hopkins  could  have  told 
him,  —  that  his  wife  had  no  vigor  of  constitu 
tion,  and  that  every  winter  told  more  and  more 
upon  her  strength ;  every  "  poor  spell  "  left  her 
weaker  than  the  last. 

But  she,  the  poor,  little,  misplaced  woman, 
knew  it  all.  She  realized  the  pitying  contempt 
of  the  parishioners ;  the  impossibility  of  ever 
adapting  herself  to  them  ;  her  own  inefficiency, 
mental  and  physical,  for  the  duties  of  her  posi 
tion;  the  difference  between  her  housekeeping 
and-  that  of  the  notable  wives  around  her ;  the 
fond  blindness  of  her  husband's  love  ;  and  even 
her  own  wasting  health.  Yes,  she  knew  it 
all,  and  — heroic  at  least  in  this  —  kept  it  all  in 
her  own  heart,  and  was  ever  apparently  happy 
and  hopeful  before  him,  until  —  But  we  are 
anticipating,  and  must  go  back  to  the  day  of 
excitement  following  the  birth  of  the  twins. 

Great  was  the  amount  of  visiting  that  day. 
Every  good  wife  wanted  to  talk  over  the  news 
with  her  neighbors  ;  every  one  wanted  to  send 


14  GEMINI. 

something  to  the  young  mother,  —  if  possible  to 
have  a  peep  at  .the  babies,  or  a  personal  report 
of  their  exact  weight  and  complexion  from 
Samanthy  Ann  Jackman,  now  re-installed  as 
housekeeper  (and  nurse).  At  least  twenty  times 
that  day,  this  much-enduring  woman  was  re 
quired  to  state  upon  honor,  which  parent  the 
pink-faced  mites  "  favored  most  ; "  whether 
both  were  likely  to  live  ;  whether  names  had 
been  selected  for  them ;  what  they  weighed, 
separately  and  together,  and  whether  they  ar 
rived  Thursday  night  or  Friday  morning,  this 
latter  fact  being  supposed  to  decide  definitively 
whether  they  were  to  be  "  merry  and  glad  "  in 
temper,  or  "sour  and  sad." 

The  offerings  were  even  more  various  than 
the  questions ;  pats  of  butter,  fresh  eggs, 
pitchers  of  cream,  brown  bread  and  white 
("  to  save  Samanthy's  cookin' "),  cake,  cheese, 
and  preserves  enough  to  insure  dyspepsia  to 
the  Elder  for  weeks,  a  pair  of  homespun 
blankets,  bunches  of  dried  camomile,  anise-seed, 


GEMINI.  1 5 

sage,  catnip,  saffron,  and  wormwood,  a  patch 
work  "spread,"  a  set  of  white  dimity  window- 
curtains,  with  ball  fringe,  ditto  of  table-covers, 
three  boxes  of  honey,  two  pewter  porringers, 
a  lace-trimmed  night-cap,  —  "agin*  the  time  she 
sets  up  and  sees  folks,"  —  three  pin-cushions, 
baby  clothes  without  number,  —  "not  s'posin' 
two  had  been  cal'lated  on,"  • —  and  five  cradles, 
for  the  same  good  reason. 

Nothing  else  was  talked  of  for  many  days. 
The  single  question  of  names  employed  the 
public  imagination  —  the  feminine  portion  of  it, 
at  least  —  for  a  whole  fortnight ;  and  the  sugges 
tions  made  would  have  filled  an  ordinary  school 
copy-book.  Scripture  nomenclature  predomi 
nated,  of  course,  as  these  were  parson's  children. 
Mrs.  Deacon  Sawyer  said  that  "  Trypheny  and 
Tryphosy  seemed  to  be  almost  p'inted  out  by 
Providence  for  twin  girls,"  and  had  quite  a 
fierce  argument  on  the  subject  with  Mrs.  Deacon 
Andrews,  who  was  firm  in  her  preference  for 
Mary  and  Martha.  Ruth  and  Naomi,  Eunice 


1 6  GEMINI. 

and  Lois,  had  supporters  too :  while  the  younger 
matrons  approved  of  Faith  and  Hope,  Grace 
and  Love ;  and  Samanthy  herself  was  an  ad 
vocate  of  Patience  and  Prudence. 

The  young  girls  held  a  secret  caucus,  wherein 
were  mentioned  such  worldly  names  as  Lily  and 
Rose,  Arabella  and  Isabella ;  and  one  ingenious 
maiden  remarked  that  "  Samuella  and  Marietta 
would  be  a  sweet  compliment  to  the  parents," 
the  Elder  being  named  Samuel,  and  his  wife 
Maria.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  none  of  these 
suggestions  were  adopted,  and  all  the  heart 
burning  and  jealousy  which  would  have  pre 
vailed  among  the  ninety-nine  suggesters,  had 
the  one-hundredth  been  fortunate,  were  happily 
avoided.  Mrs.  Mason  took  the  matter  into  her 
own  hands,  and  startled,  shocked,  not  to  say 
scandalized,  the  whole  parish  by  naming  the 
helpless  innocents  Penserosa  and  Allegra. 


GEMINI.  17 


CHAPTER   III. 

"  What  mighty  contests  rise  from  trivial  things."  —  POPE. 

r  I^HUS  it  happened.  The  Elder  sat  by  his 
wife's  bedside  one  evening,  the  twins,  now 
two  weeks  old,  asleep  on  a  pillow  near  by.  As 
yet,  he  had  scarcely  realized  the  fact  of  his 
fatherhood,  his  whole  heart  being  occupied 
with  gratitude  that  his  "dearly  beloved"  (for 
so  he  always  called  his  wife,  within  himself,  and 
•  in  the  rare  moments  when  he  showed  his  love 
for  her  in  words)  his  "dearly  beloved,"  we  say, 
had  passed  through  a  season  of  great  danger, 
.and  been  brought  back  to  him.  His  plain, 
rugged,  earnest  face  was  now  shining  with  this 
joyful  thought  ;  his  eyes  were  fixed  with  almost 
reverent  love  upon  her  pale  features  ;  and,  with 
one  of  his  great  hands,  he  gently  stroked  her 


1 8  GEM  I  NT. 

little,  thin  one,  as  it  lay  upon  the  gay  squares 
of  the  "album  quilt,"  presented  by  the  ladies 
of  his  congregation  at  the  last  donation-party 
but  one. 

"  You  find  yourself  gaining  a  little,  Maria  ? " 
remarked  the  good  man,  interrogatively,  after  a 
long,  peaceful  silence,  broken  only  .  by  the 
pleasant  snapping  of  the  hickory-wood  fire. 
"  Not  yet,  dear,"  she  replied ;  then,  seeing  his 
face  fall,  "perhaps  it  isn't  time  yet  —  only  two 
weeks  you  know.".  "Oh,  ah,  yes;  only  two 
weeks  —  not  time  yet  —  probably  not,  my  dear, 
probably  not."  And  the  Elder  smiled  encourag 
ingly,  and  bethinking  himself  that  his  remark 
betrayed  great  ignorance,  and  might  trouble 
his  wife,  he  continued  "  there  is  no  hurry, 
Maria:  Samantha  is  a  very  well-intentioned 
person,  and  does  her  best  to  make  me  com 
fortable,  and  though,  of  course,  the  house  can 
not  look  as  it  does  when  my  well  beloved 
herself,  is  —  is  —  flitting  about,"  (O  poor  Sa 
mantha  ! )  "  still  it  behooves  us  to  have  pa- 


GEMINI.  19 

tience,  oh,  certainly  —  patience  and  prudence 
both." 

"  Why,  husband ! "  cried  Mrs.  Mason,  with 
a  nervous,  little  laugh,  "  I  should  think  Sa- 
mantha  had  been  talking  to  you  too.  Fancy 
her  recommending  me  to  name  the  children 
'  Patience  and  Prudence ' !  " 

"The  Children!"  ejaculated  the  Elder,  be 
wildered  for  an  instant,  "children?"  Then 
recollecting  himself,  and  blushing  ^like  a  boy, 
"  Oh,  yes,  certainly,  the  children ;  and  they 
must  be  named,  to  be  sure." 

"Yes,  but  I  told  her  I  couldn't  .think  of  calling 
them  by  any  such  prim,  old-timy  names  as 
those  :  I  must  have  something  pretty  and 

poetical,  and  you  must  help  me  think,  dear." 

• 

"  We  couldn't  name  both  for  you,  I  suppose," 
he  timidly  suggested,  "but  one"  — 

"Oh,  no!"  she  objected:  "Maria  is  so  stiff 
and  ugly !  Let  us  not  have  any  family  names, 
or  Bible,  either :  the  whole  village  is  full  of 
them ;  let  us  have  something  new  and  orig- 


20  GEMINI. 

inal.  But  I  am  tired  now  ;  I  must  try  to 
sleep:  and  you  must  be  sure  and  have  some 
names  ready  to  suggest  to  me  when  you  come 
in  again." 

The  Elder  kissed  her  forehead,  and  tiptoed 
awkwardly  away;  passing  through  the  kitchen 
to  gain  his  study,  he  was  waylaid  by  Samanthy 
the  faithful,  who  was  darning  his  "  feeting " 
(as  she  would  have  called  the  coarse,  blue,  yarn 
socks)  by  the  light  of  two  home-dipped,  tallow 
candles. 

"  Ef  you  ain't  too  busy,  Elder,  I  '11  git  you  to 
step  inter  the. back-room,  and  sottle  which  o' 
them  there  cradles  you  'd  ruther  keep  ;  'cause 
Hiram  he 's  a-goin'  by  afore  light  to-morrer,  with 

his  wood-sled,  and  he  c'n  jes'  as  well 's  not  take 

• 
the  others  hum." 

"  Cradles  ?  "  cried  the  good  parson,  in  despair 
ing  staccato. 

"  Yes,  sir"  returned  Samanthy,  briskly  taking 
one  of  the  dips,  and  leading  the  way  into  the 
long,  unpainted,  rough-raftered  room  which  con- 


GEMINI.  21 

nected  the  house  and  barn.  "  You  see,  the 
neighbors  is  so  orful  tickled  'bout  them  twins, 
they  can't  do  nor  send  enough,  —  and  there  the 
cradles  be, —  five  on  'em.  This  here  red  one's 
Mis'  Deacon  Sawyer's,  and  that's  Polly  Ann 
Barnes's,  with  the  blue  gingham  frill  on  't ;  and 
them  two  onpainted  ones  come  from  the  Hol 
ler  ;  and  that  yaller-streak-ed  one  's  from  Mis' 
Holdin's.  We  'd  orter  pick  'n  choose  out  two, 
an'  let  the  rest  go  hum,  'fore  I  scour  up  in 
here,  Sat'day.  They're  orfle  clutterin'  things, 
and  I  've  'most  broke  my  neck  over  'em  time- 
and-agen  a' ready." 

The  Elder  gazed  helplessly  at  the  five,  while 
a  depressing  sense  of  the  terrible  responsibilities 
of  his  new  relationship  stole  over  him.  At  last 
he  said, — 

"  Samantha,  I  leave  it  to  your  judgment ;  keep 
whichever  you  think  best,  and  let  your  brother 
convey  the  others  home,  with  my  —  with  Mrs. 
Mason's  kindest  thanks." 

"  Sence  you  leave  it  to  me,  sir,  and  seein'  as 


22  GEMINI. 

how  three  on  'em  's  sure  to  be  mad,  anyhow,  I  '11 
keep  this  here  with  the  frill,  'cause  it 's  kinder 
fancifle,  and  '11  please  Mis'  Mason ;  and  this  here 
smallest  onpainted  one,  'cause  it 's  Widder 
Green's,  an'  she  's  poor,  an'  her  feelin's  is  so 
dreffle  easy  hurt.  An'  I  '11  send  hum  this  great, 
gormin'  red  one  —  (it  looks  jes'  like  Mis'  Sawyer, 
in  that  flamin'  cotton-an'-wool  de  laine  she 's  so 
fond  o'  wearin'  to  sewin'  s'iety)  ;  an'  this  o'  Mis' 
Holdin's  don't  hold  none  o'  our  babies,  arter 
three  o'  her'n  's  died  in  it :  an'  that  other  's  got 
a  squeak  in  the  rockers,  that  sets  all  my  teeth 
on  aidge."  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  Elder 
was  safe  in  his  study  long  before  Samanthy  had 
ended  her  remarks,  and  there  he  soon  forgot 
both  children  and  cradles. 

As  the  tall  clock  in  the  kitchen  struck  twelve, 
he  came  forth  to  go  to  bed  in  the  "best  room,"  of 
late  assigned  to  him  ;  but,  softly  as  he  stepped, 
and  loudly  as  the  good  Samanthy  was  snoring, 
his  wife  heard,  and  called  him  in.  Her  little  fin 
gers  were  hot,  and  her  voice  quick  and  feverish, 
as  she  clasped  his  hand,  saying:  — 


GEMINI.  23 

"  Oh,  husband,  I  've  had  such  a  happy  dream 
about  old  times !  We  were  back  home  in  dear 
old  Virginia,  in  the  white-washed  summer-house 
by  the  creek,  and  you  were  reading  to  me,  just 
as  you  used  to  ;  and  I  had  on  a  white,  thin  dress 
again,  and  red  pomegranate  flowers  in  my  hair, 
and  plenty  more  of  them  blooming  on  the  bushes 
in  the  garden,  and  the  air  full  of  the  smell  of  the 
roses.  You  were  reading,  out  of  Pa's  old  Milton, 
those  two  short  pieces  that  I  always  would  like 
better  than  '  Paradise  Lost,'  and  I  was  playing 
with  two  great,  white  magnolia  buds,  till,  sud 
denly,  they  turned  into  little  babies,  and  I  said, 
'  Let  's  name  them  for  the  poems  ; '  and  then  I 
waked  up,  and  I  can't  remember  those  names, 
and  it  tires  me  so  to  think !  What  were  they, 
husband  ?  Those  pretty  Italian  words  that  you 
said  meant  merry  and  sad,  or  something  like 
that  ? " 

"  You  must  mean  '  II  Penseroso '  and  '  L' Alle 
gro,'  my  well-beloved,"  he  answered  soothingly  ; 
"That  was  a  very  sweet  dream,  dear.  Yes,  we 


24  GEMINI. 

were  happy  in  our  careless  youth,  Maria;  and 
we  are  happy  now,  thank  God,  though  in  a  so 
berer  fashion,  perhaps ;  yet,  let  us  hope,  more 
useful." 

"  Oh,  not  I !  "  she  cried  excitedly.  "  You  are 
always  doing  good :  but  I  am  a  useless,  silly, 
little  creature ;  and  it  will  be  all  the  better  for 
you,  and  the  babies  too,  perhaps,  that  I  cannot 
stay  with  you."  She  spoke  so  wildly  that  he  was 
quite  alarmed,  and  hastened  to  say, — 

"You  are  feverish,  my  dear,  your  dream  has 
excited  you.  There,  there,  lie  down  and  rest ; " 
and  he  stroked  her  hair  with  trembling,  anxious 
hands. 

"  But  you  will  never  forget  me,  will  you  ? 
And  you  will  tell  my  little  girls  about^me,  and 
you  will  name  them  as  I  dreamed,  no  matter 
what  the  people  say — won't  you?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  beloved,  only  lie  down,  and  be 
jealm,  and  let  me  give  you  something  to  make 
you  sleep ! "  But,  here,  one  of  the  little  ones 
lifted  up  a  wailing  voice,  and  the  faithful  nurse 


GEMINI.  25 

was  awake  instantly.  In  one  moment  she  had 
projected  herself  into  an  astounding  wrapper, 
laid  the  baby  in  its  mother's  arms  (thus  effect 
ually  quieting  both),  and  banished  the  Elder 
unceremoniously  to  his  own  domains,  where  he 
thought  anxiously,  and  prayed  long,  for  his  wife. 
"  She  was  certainly  feverish,"  he  said  to  himself 
again  and  again  ;  striving  by  iteration  to  smother 
his  fears  ;  "  it  was  the  excitement  of  the  dream, 
that  was  surely  all."  But  the  pang  remained,— 
the  shadow  of  a  life-long  sorrow  had  begun  to 
fall. 


26  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

"  I  see  a  hand  you  cannot  see,  which  beckons  me  away."  —  TICKELL. 

~|\  yTRS.  MASON  was  so  much  like  her  usual 
gentle  self  next  day,  that  the  Elder  almost 
forgot  his  alarm.  She  remembered  her  dream, 
however,  and  clung  to  her  fancy  of  naming  the 
twins,  in  spite  of  Samanthy's  sniffs  and  Doctor 
Hopkins's  frank  ridicule. 

The  Elder  had  consented,  suggesting  only  a 
feminine  termination  to  the  names,  and  why 
should  she  care  for  any  one  else  ?  "  This  little 
one  with  the  dark  hair  shall  be  Penserosa,  and 
the  one  with  the  dimple  in  her  chin  shall  be 
Allegra."  So  it  was  settled,  and  Beebury  had 
'to  make  the  best  of  it. 

Meanwhile,  the  short  winter  days  were  slip 
ping  quietly,  monotonously  away.  All  the 


GEMINI.  27 

brooks  and  mill-ponds  lay  silent  under  clear 
black  ice :  then  came  the  snow,  storm  upon 
storm,  till  it  lay  four  and  six,  and  in  drifted 
places,  even  ten  feet  deep.  Again  and  again 
the  neighbors  yoked  their  oxen,  and  drove  great 
wood-sleds,  laden  with  screaming  boys  and 
girls,  up  and  down  between  the  Hill  and  the 
Hollow,  breaking  open  the  road.  Often  that 
rude  sculptor,  the  Wind,  would  come  after  them, 
and  in  one  night  destroy  all  signs  of  their  labor, 
tossing  up  beautiful  domes  here,  and  scooping 
out  exquisite,  fluted  alcoves  there, —  calling  on 
his  friend  Sleet  to  polish  all,  that  they  might 
glitter  bravely  and  mockingly  in  the  morrow's 
sun. 

The  wood-roads  became  grand  arcades;  for 
the  slenderer  birches  and  hemlocks,  bent  down 
from  either  side  by  their  weight  of  snow,  met 
and  froze  together  in  fantastic  arches  and  icicle- 
hung  galleries,  beside  which  the  boasted  cathe 
drals  of  Milan  and  Cologne  were  but  rude 
'prentice  work.  But,  though  month  followed 


28  GEMINI. 

month,  Mrs.  Mason  grew  no  stronger.  The 
hours  were  fewer  and  fewer  in  which  she  was 
able  to  talk  with  her  husband,  or  to  hear  him 
read :  but  she  loved  to  have  him  sit  beside  her 
and  hold  her  hand  while  she  dozed  or  dreamed ; 
and  he  —  neglecting  all  parish-work  save  preach 
ing  —  wrote  and  studied,  hoped  and  feared  ;  went 
out  but  little,  shrinking  from  the  curiosity-al 
loyed  sympathy  of  his  people ;  dividing  his 
time  between  his  books  and  the  sick-room ; 
finding  now  and  then  a  rude  relief  from  sad 
thoughts  in  sawing  and  splitting  wood  to  feed 
the  big  fires  required  by  the  severe  weather. 
Samanthy  toiled  early  and  late,  keeping  every 
thing  shiningly  clean,  and  wearing  always  a 
cheerful  face,  though  she  knew  only  too  well 
what  sorrowful  change  was  drawing  near. 

Every  night  the  Elder  would  resolve  upon 
having  a  plain  talk  with  the  Doctor ;  but  every 
da"y  he  shrank  from  it,  trying  to  believe  young 
mothers  were  always  so  weak ;  that  spring 
would  restore  his  "  well-beloved."  But  rough- 


GEMINI.  29 

voiced,  warm-hearted  Samanthy  had  faced  the 
fear,  and  had  her  interview  with  the  Doctor 
long  ago,  burying  the  secret  in  her  own  mind, 
and  going  about  as  vigorously  as  before,  saying 
to  herself,  —  "  'Tain't  no  use  setten'  down  and 
grievin',  when  I  've  got  the  poor  little  creetur, 
and  them  twins,  and  that  blessed,  helpless  Elder, 
and  all  the  critters,  and  the  chores  on  my  shoul 
ders  to  onst.  Now 's  the  time  for  you  to  show 
your  grit,  ef  you've  got  any,  Samanthy  Ann 
Jackman,  and  so  I  tell  you ! "  And  the  babies 
grew  and  thrived,  and  were  exhibited  to  admir 
ing  neighbors  by  their  proud  and  faithful  nurse ; 
but  the  young  mother  sank  and  wasted  slowly 
and  surely,  until  at  last,  one  bright,  thawing  day 
in  mid-April,  when  the  great  drifts  began  to 
settle  and  soften  beneath  the  sun's  rays  ;  when 
the  rapid  dripping  of  the  eaves  seemed  to  be 
singing  a  merry  song  of  spring  ;  when  the  hem 
locks  shook  off  the  last  of  their  icy  fetters,  and 
tossed  their  plumy  boughs  freely  in  the  mild 
breeze ;  when  the  air  without  was  full  of  an 


30  GEMINI. 

indescribably  delicious  hope  and  promise,  —  the 
weary  little  wife  and  mother  drifted  out  of  life, 
her  last  breath  a  pathetic  cry,  "  Oh,  don't  forget 
me ! "  her  last  look  one  of  yearning,  unspeak 
able  love  into  her  husband's  eyes  —  and  then  — 
her  brief  story  was  ended ;  and  all  weakness, 
shallowness,  insignificance,  and  short-coming, 
for  ever  covered  and  condoned  by  the  awful 
dignity,  the  tender  pathos,  of  her  early  death. 


GEMINI.  3 1 


CHAPTER   V. 

"Cheerful  yesterdays,  and  confident  to-morrows."  —  WORDSWORTH. 

r  I  "'EN  years  passed  away:  ten  times  the  spring 
sunshine  melted  the  snow-drifts  on  the 
Beebury  hill-pastures,  and  wooed  into  bloom  — 
shyly  creeping  under  last  year's  leaves  —  the 
fragrant,  pink  and  white  clusters  of  the  trailing 
arbutus,  still  lovingly  called  "mayflower"  in 
New  England.  Ten  Junes  made  the  same  pas 
tures  rosy  with  the  more  lavish  glories  of  the 
sturdy  laurel  bushes ;  through  ten  glowing  Oc 
tobers,  the  children  and  the  squirrels  hunted 
and  stored  beech-nuts,  chestnuts,  hickory-nuts, 
and  butter-nuts ;  while  their  elders  barrelled 
their  "  Baldins  and  Sweetin's,"  carried  home 
their  golden  corn  and  pumpkins,  and  spread 
out,  in  sunny  corners  of  "L"  roofs,  the  crook- 


32  GEMINI. 

necked  winter  squashes,  carefully  covered  with 
old  bed-quilts,  each  frosty  night. 

Ten  times  the  whirling  snows  of  winter  tried 
to  hide  the  one  marble  shaft  in  the  little  grave 
yard,  as  if  envious  of  its  whiteness,  as  it  stood 
alone  among  the  blue  slate  slabs ;  but  though 
they  often  covered  the  text,  "  Hers  was  the 
ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,"  and  even 
the  dates,  and  the  Elder's  name,  they  had  never 
yet  concealed  the  highest  words,  — "  Maria, 
beloved  wife'' 

Ten  years  had  sprinkled  the  Elder's  hair  with 
white,  bent  his  shoulders,  and  scored  his  sober, 
dreamy  face ;  but  Samanthy  was  as  straight,  as 
keen-eyed,  as  "spry,"  and  as  neat  as  ever;  not  a 
gray  hair  in  her  shining,  sandy,  tightly  pinned 
braids,  though  she  was  "  goin'  on  forty-five  "  and 
scorned  to  conceal  the  fact. 

As  the  Elder,  after  his  wife's  death,  forgot,  or 
shrank  from,  his  accustomed  duties  in  wood 
shed  and  barn,  "  Hiram  he,"  as  Samanthy  usually 
styled  her  half-brother,  had  been  called  in ;  at 


GEMINI.  33 

first,  only  for  the  "  night  'n'  mornin'  chores;" 
then  for  a  "week's  spell  at  the  garding;"  but 
finally,  on  his  mother's  death,  to  be  a  regular 
inmate,  and  valued  member  of  the  family. 
Twenty  years  younger,  and  of  a  more  easy  and 
genial  temper  than  his  sister,  he  had  proved  a 
blessing  indeed  to  Penny  and  Lally,  as  the 
motherless  twins  were  popularly  called.  Many 
and  many  a  stormy,  winter  afternoon,  when  their 
father  was  shut  up  in  his  study,  and  Samanthy  was 
"  tidyin'  up  and  scourin'  round  "  in  the  kitchen 
and  "  butt'ry,"  had  the  little  girls  spent  happily 
in  the  long,  unpainted  back-room,  eagerly  listen 
ing  to  Hiram's  stories,  as  they  leaned  against  his 
shoemaker's  bench  ;  for,  like  many  another  New 
England  boy,  Hiram  had  learned  a  trade,  and 
worked  at  it  when  farm  duties  were  over,  or  the 
weather  bad.  That  high,  desk-like  bench,  of 
dark,  use-polished,  much  be-jack-knifed  wood, 
was  as  curious  and  charming  to  them,  as  a  piano 
to  city-bred  babies.  Its  little  drawers,  full  of 
white,  oat-like  pegs,  with  which  Hiram  let  them 
3 


34  GEMINI. 

fill  their  toy  dishes  when  they  played  "tea-set ;  " 
its  row  of  leathern  loops,  in  which  the  ham 
mers  and  awls  were  thrust ;  the  heavy,  slippery 
lasts,  the  forbidden  blacking-bottle,  and  paste- 
dipper  ;  even  the  high,  shiny  stool  Hiram  sat 
on,  and  the  grimy,  ticking  apron  he  wore  when 
working,  —  were  dear  and  honorable  in  the  eyes 
of  these  children,  for  ever  suggestive  of  peace  and 
comfort  and  "a  good  time."  Years  and  years 
after,  the  faintest  smell  of  leather  would  bring 
back  to  each,  in  a  moment,  the  old  brown-raftered 
room ;  the  sound  of  rushing  rain  on  roof  and 
small-paned  windows ;  the  comfortable  smell  of 
frying  pancakes  coming  through  the  crack  of  the 
kitchen  door ;  the  funny,  shrewd  face  of  Hiram, 
with  his  black  eyebrows  meeting  over  his  laugh 
ing  eyes,  as  he  deftly  struck  each  peg  into  its 
appointed  hole  ;  the  very  taste  of  the  big  apple 
in  her  hand  ;  the  soft  clasp  around  her  neck  of  a 
''clear  little  sister's  arm ;  and  even  the  slow,  swing 
ing  motion  with  which  they  both  swayed  softly  to 
and  fro,  as  careless  children  will,  keeping  uncon- 


GEMINI.  35 

scions  time  to  some  sweet,  unknown  tune. 
Penny  and  Lally  !  Yes,  those  were  their  names  ! 
Their  dead  mother's  poetical  fancy,  their  father's 
care  to  give  them  their  names  in  full,  their 
slightly  dignified  position  as  Elder's  daughters, 
could  not  save  them  from  the  shearing  and 
clipping  tendencies  of  school  familiarity  and 
daily  use.  Penserosa  and  Allegra  were  written 
in  their  Bibles,  and  worked  by  their  own  patient 
fingers  on  their  "  samplers ; "  but,  to  the  Bee- 
bury  world  and  to  each  other,  they  were  only 
"Penny"  and  "Lally;"  not  heroines  nor  cher 
ubs,  but  good,  quiet,  little  girls,  whom  Sa- 
manthy  dressed  in  blue-checked  gingham  frocks 
in  summer,  and  brown  woollen  in  winter,  and  in 
long-sleeved,  high-necked  calico  "  tiers "  or 
aprons,  all  the  year  round.  The  fact  of  their 
being  twins  and  motherless  had  given  them  a 
little  distinction  at  first ;  but  other  mothers 
dying,  and  other  twins  being  born,  —  and  the  El 
der  showing  no  disposition  whatever  to  "  change 
his  condition," — they  soon  ceased  to  be  objects 


36  GEMINI. 

of  special  interest.  Even  their  names  were  not 
wondered  at,  long ;  for,  however  severe,  conven 
tional,  and  innovation-fearing  New  England 
country  people  may  be  in  most  respects,  in  the 
matter  of  naming  their  children  they  show  a 
degree  of  invention,  imagination,  and  sensation 
alism  comically  inconsistent. 

Penserosa  and  Allegra  Mason  had  no  reason 
to  feel  shy  or  sensitive  about  their  names,  when 
in  the  same  spelling-class  stood  Clarissa  Har- 
lowe  Flanders,  Ariadne  Jackson,  Sarcleny  Wilhel- 
mine  (always  pronounced  William-Ine)  Burton, 
Lamartine  Locke,  Jerome  Erastus  Parker,  and 
Ephraim  Virgil  Napoleon  Bonaparte  Grimes. 

The  teacher's  name  was  Emma  Isadora  Green ; 
and  one  of  the  neighbors,  having  prosaically 
called  her  first  two  sons  William  and  Joseph, 
pined  for  novelty,  opened  a  history  of  the  United 
States  at  random,  and  called  her  third  "Baron 
Steuben"  (invariably  pronounced  Bay-ron). 

Nor  was  the  Scripture  element  wanting,  for 
there  were  three  Ruths  ;  though,  I  am  sorry  to 


GEMINI.  37 

say,  in  the  zeal  for  double  names,  they  were  re 
spectively  called  Ruth  Ellen,  Maria  Ruth,  and 
Ruth  Esther  :  there  was  one  Bathsheba,  called 
"Bashy"  for  short;  plenty  of  Nathanaels,  Sam 
uels,  and  Ebenezers ;  one  Salome  (too  often 
abbreviated  to  "S'lome");  while  another  unfor 
tunate  was  actually  called  Ai,  —  his  parents 
thinking  that  any  thing  out  of  the  Bible  must 
be  right,  and  quite  unaware  that  they  had  chosen 
the  name  of  a  city. 

Neither  were  my  two  girls  remarkable  for 
beauty  :  though  Penny's  brown  eyes  were  large 
and  expressive,  and  Lally  had  beautiful  bronze- 
colored  curls ;  yet,  as  Samanthy  herself  said,  the 
former  was  "  too  pick-ed  featur'd,"  and  the  other 
"  too  chunked."  Moreover,  both  had  tbat  fair, 
delicate  complexion  which  is,  in  childhood,  a  prey 
to  innumerable  fine  freckles.  Two  distinctions, 
however,  they  certainly  had  ;  their  voices  were 
sweet,  low,  and  refined,  quite  unlike  the  majority 
of  their  mates,  and  they  studied  Latin.  This 
last  —  a  thing  utterly  undreamed-of  for  girls  in 


38  GEMINI. 

that  vicinity  —  they  owed,  of  course,  to  their 
father,  who,  leaving  them  wholly  to  Samanthy's 
care  in  all  else,  gave  them  regular  instruction  in 
his  favorite  language,  in  matters  religious  and 
theological,  and  in  love  of  their  lost  mother.  So 
closely  were  these  last  topics  associated  in  their 
infant  minds,  that  poor  little  Lally  once  paralyzed 
the  whole  Sabbath  school,  when  asked  to  explain 
the  last  line  of  the  doxology,  by  saying  she  sup 
posed  it  meant  "God  and  Jesus,  and  dear  mamma." 

"Hiram,"  said  Lally,  one  t)f  those  stormy 
afternoons,  —  "  Hiram,  what  is  daventures?" 

"  Now  Lally,"  he  replied,  shaking  his  head  re 
proachfully,  "  I  allus  knew  you  was  a  beater  for 
questions,  but  I  did/it  think  you  'd  make  up 
words,  and  then  ask  a  feller  what  they  meant." 

"  But  it  is  a  really  word,"  persisted  the  child  : 
"  don't  you  know  you  told  us  about  the  life  and 
daventures  of  Robin  Hood,  'cause  we  helped 
husk  the  corn  ? " 

"  O — h,   sartin,   sartin,  child ;  but  it 's 
turs,  the  life  an'  adventurs,"  very  slowly. 


GEMINI.  39 

"  Well,  what  does  it  mean,  Hiram  ?  " 

"  Why  it 's  when  —  when  somethin'  wonderfle 
happens  to  a  person  —  somethin'^out  o'  the  com 
mon,  you  know,  like  'most  gettin'  drownded,  or 
meetin'  a  tiger,  or  —  or  fallin'  into  a  well." 

The  children  reflected  a  while  in  silence. 

"  People  don't  have  daventures  in  Beebury,  do 
they  ? "  Lally  asked  at  length,  forgetting  the 
proper  pronunciation  in  her  earnestness. 

"Wai,  no,  not  every  day,"  said  Hiram,  with  a 
funny  look  in  his  £yes.  "Beebury  's  a  kind  of  a 
steady,  right-along,  go-to-meetin'  sort  of  a  place, 
you  see." 

"Do  they  have  them  in  Virginia?"  asked 
Penserosa,  whose  thoughts  ran  much  upon  her 
mother. 

"That's  more'n  I  c'n  say,"  returned  Hiram: 
"I  hain't  bin  no  great  of  a  traveller;  but  ef  we 
could  foller  this  here  shoe  I'm  a-makin,'  we'd 
have  lots  on  'em,  Lally ;  for  it 's  a-goin'  right 
down  to  Virginny  —  like's  not  where  your 
mother  useter  live." 


40  GEMINI. 

"O  Hiram!"  cried  both  children,  gazing  with 
big  eyes  from  the  half-finished  shoe,  to  its  mates 
already  neatly  packed  in  a  clean,  pine  box ; 
"really  and  truly?" 

"Sartin  sure  they  be:  why,  didn't  you  know 
them  was  all  plarntation  shoes,  for  the  poor 
toilin'  nigger  slaves  ? " 

They  shook  their  heads,  and  impulsive  little 
Lally's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  had  heard 
of  slavery  often,  —  had  learned  Jane  Taylor's 
hymn,  — 

"I  was  not  born  a  little  slave, 
To  labor  in  the  sun, 
To  wish  that  I  were  in  my  grave, 
And  all  my  labor  done,"  &c.  ; 

but  this  somehow  seemed  to  make  it  more  real 
than  ever  before. 

"  Is  that  why  they  are  all  so  large  ?  "  inquired 
Penny,  in  an  awed  whisper. 

Hiram  nodded :  his  mouth  was  full  of  pegs. 

"  Don't  you  ever  make  any  for  the  little  slave 
children  ? "  she  continued,  fascinated  by  the  dis 
covery. 


GEMINI.  41 

"  Barefoot,"  mumbled  Hiram,  shaking  his  head. 
The  merry  fellow  was  sorry  he  had  turned  the 
talk  in  so  depressing  a  direction;  and,  as  soon  as 
he  could  speak,  he  remarked  cheerily,  — 

"  Come  to  think  on  't,  Lally,  you  had  an  ad- 
ventur'  once,  when  you  was  a  little  teenty  gal." 

"Did  I,  Hiram?"  joyfully,  and  Lally  wiped 
away  her  tears  :  "  oh,  tell  us  all  about  it  ! " 

"  Wai,  ye  see,  I  was  a-milkin'  out  'n  the  barn 
yard,  milkin'  the  brindle  ;  and  the  Aldeny,  she 
was  a-standin'  t'other  side,  and  you  come  in  the 
gate,  'n'  sot  out  to  come  over  to -me;  'n'  my  back 
bein'  turned,  I  hadn't  no  notion  on't,  till  all  of  a 
suddin  I  saw  the  Aldeny  put  her  little,  spitefle 
head  down,  an'  start  full  tilt  to'ards  the  gate.  I 
mistrusted  in  a  minnit,  and  gev  a  quick  jump 
back  wards-like,  an'  worn't  no  more'n  in  time  to 
ketch  you  up,  and  drop  you  t'other  side  o'  the 
fence.  •  Then  I  jest  snatched  up  the  milkin' 
stool,  and  gev  the  critter  a  good  lammin',  —  an' 
you,  little  forgivin'  thing,  stood  a-cryin'  outside, 
beggin'  me  not  to  'hurt  the  poor  cow!'  " 


42  GEMINI. 

"And  was  that  a  real  adventure,  Hiram?"  said 
Lally,  drawing  a  deep  breath  of  satisfaction. 

"  Sartin  !  "  he  returned. 

Penny  looked  admiringly  at  her  sister,  and 
said,  "  Perhaps  /  shall  have  one,  too,  some  day." 

Slaves  were  effectually  banished  from  their 
thoughts  for  the  time ;  but,  after  they  went  to 
bed  that  night,  they  lay  awake  a  long  while, 
talking  it  over,  and  wishing  they  could  put  some 
thing  into  that  box,  to  comfort  the  beings  whom 
their  fancy  pictured  perpetually  beaten,  bleeding, 
and  weeping.  Lally  proposed  pancakes  and 
apples,  but  the  more  prudent  Penny  suggested 
that,  before  the  box  could  reach  Virginia,  the 
goodies  would  be  mouldy.  A  treasured  picture- 
book  was  then  advanced,  after  great  mental 
struggle,  for  they  owned  but  three  between 
them  ;  but  it  was  finally  decided  that  it  would 
be  wrong  to  give  away  any  thing  so  valuable 
without  leave  ;  and  their  plan  was  to  be  entirely 
private,  partly  because  they  dearly  loved  a  secret, 
and  partly  because  they  feared  Samarithy  and 


GEMINI.  43 

Hiram  would  laugh.  After  two  nights  of  con 
ference,  a  letter  was  decided  upon,  composed 
and  written  as  follows:  — 

"  Dear  slaves,  we  are  both  very  sorry  for  you,  and 
we  want  to  send  you  some  pancakes  and  books  but 
it  would  mold.  Goodby  from  Penny  Mason  and 
Lally  Mason.  P.  S.  We  live  very  far  away  in 
beebury  but  Hiram  maid  all  these  shoes  and  we 
helpt." 

This  epistle,  neatly  printed  in  capitals,  with 
a  lead  pencil,  on  half  a  sheet  of  paper,  was 
folded  very  small,  and  squeezed  into  one  of 
the  shoes,  unsuspected  by  Hiram,  who  pres 
ently  nailed  up  the  box,  and  took  it  on  a  load 
of  wood  to  Coneford,  where  it  was  delivered  to 
the  dealer  from  whom  he  received  orders. 

The  mental  enjoyment  of  the  twins  in  this 
mystery,  and  in  the  thought  that  they  had  done 
their  little  best  to  comfort  the  slaves,  cannot  be 
told  ;  but,  a  few  weeks  later,  an  event  occurred 
which  banished  it  entirely  from  their  minds. 
Samanthy  consented  to  allow  Hiram  to  take 
them  to  the  annual  Fourth  of  July  picnic,  which 


44  GEMINI. 

always  included  the  ascent  of^  Bald  Mountain, 
over  whose  sharp  shoulder  the  children  had 
seen  the  sun  set  ever  since  they  could  re 
member. 

All  the  young  people,  from  both  Hill  and 
Hollow,  assembled  at  the  red  school-house  on 
the  appointed  morning,  with  most  suggestive 
baskets,  pails,  and  jugs.  No  happier  faces 
were  to  be  seen  than  those  of  sunburnt  Hiram 
and  his  eager  charges,  though  there  were  plenty 
of  sheepish-looking  "keepin'-company  "  couples 
among  the  party ;  for  to  pair  off  on  the  occasion 
of  this  picnic  was  almost  equivalent  to  having 
the  "  marriage  intentions "  pasted  up  in  the 
meeting-house  porch. 

The  first  seven  miles  were  accomplished  in 
wagons ;  then  a  deserted  barn  was  reached, 
in  and  around  which  all  the  teams  were  left, 
and  the  real  climb  began. 

Over  stone  walls,  through  rugged  pastures, 
growing  ever  steeper  and  more  rocky,  stooping 
now  and  then  to  moisten  dry  throats  with  a 


GEMINI.                                    45 
11 

cluster  of  small,  sweet,  field-strawberries,  or  a 
hand-scooped  draught  from  a  trickling  spring ; 
now  bounding  aside  from  the  apparently  deter 
mined  onset  of  some  busy,  blundering  "bumble 
bee  ;  "  now  startling  a  mother  ground-bird  from 
her  shallow  nest,  and  tarrying  for  a  loving  look 
at  the  hideous,  gaping  young ;  sitting  down 
gladly  when  the  rest  did,  but  careful  to  com 
plain  of  nothing,  lest  'Lecty  Sage  (last  year's 
crabbed  school-ma'am)  should  remark  again 
upon  the  folly  of  having  "  hinderin'  young  ones 
along,"  —  on  went  the  twins,  keeping  close  to 
Hiram,  but  bravely  refusing  his  often  offered 
hand,  because  he  was  already  laden  with  a  big 
basket,  and  the  coat  and  shawls  on  which  care 
ful  Samanthy  had  insisted.  Every  halt  gave 
them  the  joy  of  looking  back  upon  the  dis 
tance  already  achieved ;  and,  as  one  and  an 
other  distant  village  or  gleaming  pond  appeared, 
and  was  identified  by  Hiram  and  other  wise 
ones,  the  delight  of  the  children  increased,  and 
they  squeezed  each  other's  hands  and  sighed 


46  GEMINI. 

aloud,  in  very  inability  to  put  into  words  their 
strong  sense  of  the  beautiful,  inherited  from, 
rather  than  cultivated  by,  their  refined  but 
silent  father.  At  last,  after  two  hours  of  hard 
climbing,  varied  by  numerous  falls,  scratches, 
and  bruises,  they  gained  the  bare  ridge  which 
had  heretofore  formed  the  horizon  and  ^^ltima 
Thule  of  their  simple  lives.  The  first  sensation 
was  one  of  disappointment.  They  had  pictured 
the  top  as  one  acute,  unmistakable  point,  on 
which,  perhaps,  they  might  be  held,  one  at  a 
time,  by  Hiram,  but  from  which  a  fall  would  be 
perpendicular,  and  of  course  fatal,  —  and  here 
was  a  comparatively  level  place,  large  enough 
to  accommodate  the  whole  party ;  and,  though 
it  was  wild  and  desolate  enough,  without  vege 
tation,  a  wilderness  of  seamed  and  splintered 
ledges  and  lichen-rusted  boulders, — still  it  was 
a  great  blow  not  to  find  a  definite  "  tip-top." 
/**  But  the  view  !  No  disappointment  there ! 
That  was  more  solemnly  wide  and  beautiful 
than  their  wildest  dreams  ;  and,  when  Hiram 


GEMINI.  47 

pointed  out  the  blue  outlines  of  the  White 
Mountains,  they  were  happy  indeed,  and  rather 
sorry  to  be  called  down  from  their  raptures  to 
the  jollity  of  dinner.  Bounteous  was  the  dis 
play  of  bread  and  butter,  turnovers  and  cheese, 
doughnuts,  frosted  cake,  pies,  pickles,  jugs  of 
tea,  coffee,  and  milk.  There  was  plenty  of 
rustic  fun  and  gallantry  too ;  a  little,  speech- 
making  and  a  great  deal  of  singing  after  dinner ; 
a  high  pile  of  stones  was  built  to  commemorate 
the  day,  and  the  beaux  of  the  party  worked 
hard  at  hammering  their  own  and  their  beloveds' 
initials  in  the  face  of  the  rock.  About  four 
o'clock,  the  weather-wise  detected  unmistakable 
"thunder-heads"  looming  up  in  the  south-west, 
and  it  was  agreed  to  begin  the  descent.  This 
proved  a  much  more  straggling  affair  than  the 
ascent.  Some  of  the  young  men  knew  a  short 
but  steeper  way ;  some  preferred  the  longer, 
easier  path  ;  the  lovers  wandered  away  on  either 
side  ;  some  of  the  boys  wished  to  find  a  certain 
cave,  while  others  remembered  a  porcupine's  den, 


48  GEMINI. 

and  wanted  to  carry  home  some  quills,  as  trophies 
of  the  day. 

Penny  and  Lally  being  among  those  eager  to 
see  the  latter  attraction,  Hiram  tried  to  guide 
them  ;  but,  differences  arising  as  to  the  exact 
spot,  the  three  presently  found  themselves  quite 
out  of  sight  or  hearing  of  the  rest  This  did 
not  trouble  them  at  all,  especially  as  they  found 
the  den,  and  picked  up  a  number  of  little  quills 
around  its  mouth.  But  now  the  clouds  became 
more  threatening ;  and,  impelled  by  fear  of 
Samanthy's  wrath  should  the  children  get  wet, 
Hiram  proposed  a  run.  Fatal  haste !  The 
ground  was  treacherous  with  rolling  stones,  and 
slippery  with  short,  sunburnt  grass.  Hiram, 
once  started,  could  not  stop.  He  let  go  his 
hold  upon  the  children's  hands,  cried  hoarsely 
to  them  to  stop,  to  sit  down  ;  and  then,  fran 
tically  catching  at  a  bush  on  the  edge,  fell 
xheavily  over  the  steep  side  of  an  out-cropping 
ledge,  and  lay  very  still  a  dozen  feet  below. 
Thus  Penny  found  him,  when,  having  left  sob- 


GEMINI.  49 

bing  Lally  in  a  safe  hollow  above,  she  had 
slidden  and  crept  down  from  bush  to  bush. 
His  leg  was  broken,  and  he  was  almost  in 
sensible,  though  moaning  faintly.  Penny  was 
only  ten  years  old,  and,  until  now,  childish 
and  timid  for  her  age ;  but  the  emergency 
developed  her  fast,  and,  as  soon  as  she  was 
sure  that  Hiram  could  not  act,  she  knew  that 
she  must.  Climbing  back  to  her  sister,  she 
said  firmly,  — 

"Stop  crying,  Lally:  Hiram  isn't  killed,  and 
I  'm  going  to  take  you  down  to  stay  with  him, 
while  I  go  to  find  somebody." 

Lally  resisted  at  first :  she  was  afraid  of 
Hiram,  when  he  was  so  still;  afraid  of  the 
lightning,  now  frequent.  But  Penny  prevailed, 
and,  having  conducted  her  sister  to  the  foot 
of  the  ledge,  kissed  her  good-by,  with  these 
solemn  words,  — 

"  Now,  Lally,  you  be  good,  and  I  guess  God  '11 
take  care  of  us.  You  must  stay  here  with 
poor  Hiram  and  the  shawls  and  the  basket, 

4 


50  GEMINI. 

and  you  can  eat  some  cake  if  you  want  to, 
and  I'll  be  just  as  quick  as  I  possibly  can." 

"  But  how  will  you  know  the  way  back  to 
us,"  gasped  Lally,  holding  on  to  her  sister's 
dress  with  both  hands. 

Penny  had  not  thought  of  this,  and  now 
took  a  careful  look  all  around,  finally  deciding 
upon  a  tall,  lightning-blasted  oak  as  a  landmark, 
after  which  she  pulled  herself  away,  and  went 
bravely  down  the  mountain,  through  seas  of 
fern  almost  as  high  as  her  head;  over  "dread 
ful  scratchy  places,"  where  brush  had  been  cut 
and  left ;  through  gloomy,  little  groves  of  stunted 
spruces  ;  across  bare  stretches,  silvery  with 
"  everlasting ; "  calling  out  for  her  party  oc 
casionally,  but  getting  no  reply ;  making  a 
long  circuit  to  avoid  a  swampy  hollow  ;  and,  after 
nearly  an  hour  of  unabated  speed,  came  out 
panting,  flushed,  brier-torn,  anxious,  but  reso- 
/•ftite  as  ever,  into  a  broad  meadow,  beyond 
which, — oh,  welcome  sight!  —  was  a  large  red 
house  and  a  long  unpainted  barn.  Joyfully 


GEMINI.  5 1 

scrambling  over  a  wall,  she  sped  towards  it, 
when,  from  .behind  a  knoll,  there  suddenly  ap 
peared  a  very  threatening-looking  group  of  half- 
grown  cattle.  Country  girl  though  she  was, 
Penny  had  always  been  afraid  of  horned  creat 
ures  ;  and  her  terror  now  was  really  agonizing. 
To  fly  back  to  the  wall  was  her  first  impulse ; 
but  a  glance  showed  her  that  to  skirt  that 
great  field  would  involve  long  delay,  and  poor 
Hiram  was  suffering.  No,  she  must  go  on ; 
and  she  must  not  run,  or  those  dreadful  creat 
ures  would  be  sure  to  chase  her ;  they  were 
staring  at  her  already,  and  one  rough-coated 
one  was  shaking  its  head!  Terrible  tales  of 
"hooking"  and  "tossing"  rushed  through  her 
mind ;  she  clinched  her  little  hands,  and  sobbed 
aloud  in  her  distress ;  her  tired  feet  stumbled 
over  the  grassy  hummocks,  but  she  held  stead' 
fastly  on  her  way.  The  farther  wall  grows 
nearer,  nearer :  she  must  not  look  behind, 
though  she  fancies  she  hears  a  trampling ; 
and  now,  now  she  has  reached  the  bars,  and, 


52  GEMINI. 

trembling  far  too  much  to  climb  over,  half 
flings  herself,  half  falls,  upon  the  ground,  and 
rolls  under  —  safe  at  last  —  in  the  very  door- 
yard  of  the  red  house,  among  the  tufts  of 
catnip  and  yellow  dock  and  budding  holly 
hocks  that  fringe  its  big  wood-pile. 

"  Lawful,  suz ! "  cried  the-  shrill  voice  of  a 
buxom  woman,  who  was  picking  up  chips  into  a 
rusty  milk-pan ;  "  Whad-der  yer  mean  by  scarin' 
a  body  to  death  like  that  for  ? " 

Penny  sat  up  among  the  chips,  and  stared  in 
her  turn,  tried  twice  to  speak,  but  her  throat  was 
parched  ;  something  inside  trembled  strangely, 
and  she  began  to  cry  instead,  but,  presently  re 
covering  herself,  told  her  story,  which  was  re 
ceived  with  loudly  exclamatory  sympathy,  by 
rosy-faced,  kindly  Mrs.  Buttrick,  who  dragged 
her  into  the  house,  and  made  her  lie  down  on  a 
home-made,  patch-work-covered  sofa,  while  she 
/-Seized  a  long  tin  horn,  and  blew  a  resounding 
blast,  to  "  fetch  the  men-folks  from  the  fur  lot." 
Penny's  troubles  were  over  now ;  the  thunder 


GEMINI.  53 

storm  passed  by  without  a  drop  of  rain  ;  and, 
refreshed  by  food  and  kindness,  it  was  easy  to 
guide  the  hearty-voiced  farmer,  and  his  two  tall 
sons — named  Benevento  and  Beethoven  after 
favorite  tunes  in  the  hymn-book,  the  father  being 
leader  of  the  choir  —  to  the  foot  of  the  ledge 
where  Hiram  lay.  They  were  discovered  to  be 
"kind  o'  cousins"  of  Samanthy's,  and  Beethoven 
insisted  on  carrying  Penny  in  his  arms  up  the 
steep  way. 

They  found  Lally  fast  asleep  on  and  under 
the  shawls,  and  Hiram  patient  and  cheery, 
though  in  great  pain. 

A  few  hours  later  saw  him  safely  in  bed  at  his 
cousin's  house,  under  Dr.  Hopkins's  care,  and 
the  children  in  the  half-fierce,  half-loving  clutch 
of  Samanthy,  who  had  been  almost  frantic  with 
anxiety  and  indignation  when  the  party  returned 
without  them. 

Not  a  word  of  blame  did  she  utter,  as  her 
nervous  fingers  unfastened  and  twitched  off 
their  sadly  torn,  dew-soiled,  and  grass-greened 


54  GEMINI. 

garments.  Patiently  did  she  listen  to  their 
eagerly  outpoured  accounts  of  the  joys,  the 
wonders,  and  terrors  of  the  day ;  but  when,  as 
they  nestled  safely  into  their  bed,  —  bathed, 
fed,  comforted,  and  happy,  —  Penny  said,  in 
a  low,  awe-struck,  but  unmistakably  exultant 
tone, — 

"  O  Samanthy !  we've  had  a  real  adventure  at 
last,  haven't  we?"  She  actually  stooped  and 
kissed  the  child,  and,  with  a  queer  choke  in  her 
breath,  replied,  — 

"  I  per-sume  to  say,  you  hev,  you  dear 
little  creetur !  An'  ef  ever  I  forgit  how  you 
traipsed  down  that  lonesome  mounting,  an' 
a-past  all  them  steers,  to  fetch  the  folks  to 
Hiram,  may  wuss  come  to  me  ! " 

Nor  did  Hiram  fail  to  appreciate  what  the 
child  had  dared  and  done  for  him.  From  the 
moment  when  he  saw  her  returning  through 
the  dewy  twilight  with  the  help  she  had  sought, 
his  strong  heart  went  out  to  her  with  an  affection 
which  was  to  deepen  and  color  his  whole  life. 


GEMINI.  55 

The  thought  of  her  was  henceforth  to  be  associ 
ated  with  all  his  good  resolutions,  all  his  plans 
for  self-improvement,  all  his  conceptions  of  the 
pure  and  beautiful. 


56  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

"  That  saints  will  aid,  if  men  will  call, 

For  the  blue  sky  bends  over  all." 

COLERIDGE. 

"  TVyTORNIN',  S'manthy;  mornin',  gals  ;  don't 
some  on  ye  want  to  go  a-plummin'  to 
day  ?     My  Sophrony  she  was  a-goin',  but  she 's 
undertook  some  tailorin'  for  Mis'  Deacon  Saw 
yer's  boys ;  an'  what  with  losin'  one  day  with  sick 
* 

headache,  an'  another  helpin'  me  wash,  sjie  's  so 
drove  to-day,  she  can't  stir  outer  the  house,  an' 
I  hate  dreff'ly  to  go  plummin'  'lone ;  the  mount 
ing  is  such  a  lonesome  kind  uv  a  place,  you 
know.  Come,  gals !  git  your  sun-bonnets  and 
pails  !  the  rozberries  is  as  thick  as  spatter,  up  'n 
the  Hopkins  parstur,  an'  you  c'n  git  enough,  'fore 
/lark  to  set  you  up  in  sass  for  a  week  !  Come  !  " 

This  friendly  summons  came  from  Mrs.  Silas 
Elliot,  generally  known  as  "  Widder  Si'  Ellit," 


GEMINI.  57 

who  appeared  at  the  Elder's  open  back-room 
door,  one  July  morning,  in  a  limpy,  green- 
checked  gingham  dress,  a  "  log-cabin "  sun- 
bonnet  to  match,  and  with  a  ten-quart  tin  pail 
on  her  arm.  Samanthy  paused  in  her  ironing 
of  the  Elder's  Sunday  shirt,  and  seemed  to  re 
flect.  In  reality,  she  was  thinking,  "  Ef  the  gals 
go,  it  '11  jes'  give  me  the  chance  I  've  bin  a- 
wantin,'  to  hev  a  spell  o'  talk  with  their  father, 
'bout  'em ;  an'  Hiram  he 's  allus  a-wishin'  for 
rozberry  sass ; "  but  all  she  said  was,  — 

"  /  can't  go  ;  but  the  gals  may,  ef  they  wanter, 
arter  Lally  's  done  sheflin'  them  peas.  Penny,  you 
c'n  finish  that  ere  piller-case,  arter  you  git  back." 

The  girls — they  were  fifteen  now — gladly 
accepted  the  permission  to  go  out,  for  a  whole 
day,  into  the  sunshine  and  free  air.  It  was  a  rare 
privilege ;  for  Samanthy,  having  resolved  from 
the  first  that  "they  shouldn't  be  no  such  poor, 
sickly,  shif  'less,  ignorant  things,"  as  their  unfor 
tunate  mother,  had  trained  them  in  all  manner 
of  housewifely  accomplishments,  and,  when  they 


58  GEMINI. 

were  not  in  school,  always  found  some  means  of 
keeping  them  usefully  busy.  Moreover,  she  did 
not  approve  of  going  out  of  doors  for  the  pur 
pose  of  mere  enjoyment. 

"Ef  anybody's  sick,  you  c'n  go  an'  nuss  'em  ; 
ef  you  've  got  an  arrant  at  the  store,  you  c'n  go 
an'  do  it,  an'  come  straight  back  agen  ;  ef  you  're 
invited  to  spend  the  arternoon  anywheres,  you 
c  'n  take  your  knittin'  or  your  patchwork,  'n'  go, 
—  but  I  never  did  hold  to  havin'  gals  a  stragglin' 
'round  the  country,  like-  ole  hen-turkeys,  an'  so 
I  tell  you  !  " 

"Plummin',"  however  (as  gathering  any  sort 
of  berry  was  invariably  called  in  Beebury),  was 
a  legitimate  summer  occupation ;  and  a  long, 
happy  day  oyr  girls  had,  dyeing  their  fingers, 
and  filling  their  measures  with  the  abundant 
fruit;  half  listening  to  the  "  Widder  Ellit's"  prat 
tling  talk,  half  lost  in  their  own  girlish  dreams, 
£«d  careless  enjoyment  of  the  summer  day. 
Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  their  large  pail  and 
birch-bark  pints  were  all  filled,  the  widow  bade 


GEMINI.  59 

them,  "  Sed  down  'side  o'  that  big  rock,  an'  rest, 
till  I  jest  fill  my  quart  onst  more,  an'  then  we'll 
be  a  travellin.'" 

They  were  near  the  top  of  Hemlock  Hill ;  a 
broad  and  pleasant  view  lay  before  them,  leading 
them,  as  wide  prospects  so  often  do,  to  thoughts 
of  the  future,  —  of  what  they  should  do,  or  be. 

"  Penny,"  exclaimed  Lally,  after  a  long,  silent 
outlook  upon  the  quiet,  little  village  far  below, 
"do  you  think  we  shall  live  here  always,  just 
going  to  school,  and  helping  Samanthy,  and 
going  to  church  and  sewing-circle,  and  no  fun 
but  a  picnic  now  and  then,  or  the  county  fair  ? 
Don't  you  suppose  we  shall  ever  go  away,  or 
have  any  thing  happen  ? " 

Penny  laughed.  "You're  as  fond  of  'daven- 
tures'  as  ever,  Lally;  perhaps  you'd  like  to  break 
your  leg  this  time !  I  suppose  Mrs.  Elliot  and 
I  could  get  you  home  after  a  fashion  ;  but  we 
should  have  to  leave  all  these  raspberries,  and 
that  would  be  a  pity.  You  know  you  love  jam, 
and  so  does  Hiram." 


60  GEMINI. 

"  Don't  laugh  at  me,  Pen  !  "  cried  the  girl,  with 
sudden  earnestness.  "I  tell  you,  I  sometimes 
feel  half  wild  with  a  longing  to  see  more,  and  do 
more,  and  get  out  of  our  every-day-alike  way  of 
living  !  Father  is  a  dear,  and  I  'm  very  proud  of 
him,  but  you  know  he  hardly  ever  talks  to  us  ; 
and  Hiram  's  kind,  but  not  much  of  a  companion  ; 
and  Samanthy's  as  good  as  gold,  but  oh,  so  differ 
ent  from  what  mother  must  have  been !  and,  I 
know  it 's  wicked,  but  I  do  so  want  a  change  ! " 

"O  Lally!"  and  her  sister  grew  grave  in  her 
turn,  "what  if  it  should  be  a  sad  change !  Don't 
talk  so !  We  know  things  can't  go  on  forever 
in  the  same  way ;  but  how  much  worse  than  dul- 
ness  it  would  be,  if  Samanthy  should  be  sick,  or 
Hiram  go  to  California,  as  one  of  the  Buttrick 
boys  did,  or  father  should  —  should,"  her  voice 
fell  to  a  whisper,  "  be  taken  away  as  mother 
was." 

^Hush,  hush  ! "  cried  Lally,  clutching  her 
sister's  hand,  "you  know  I  didn't  mean  to  be 
ungrateful,  but  honestly,  Pen,  wouldn't  it  be 


GEMINI.  6 1 

nice 'to  travel?  to  go  to  a  city  —  or  to  visit 
somebody  we  Tve  never,  never  seen  !  " 

"  You  're  thinking  of  that  story,  Lally  :  that 's 
what  has  upset  you." 

They  had  both  been  reading  Miss  Austen's 
"Northanger  Abbey,"  a  copy  of  which  was 
among  their  mother's  possessions,  with  "  Maria 
Beall  Dudley,  from  her  dear  sister  Virginia,"  on 
the  yellow  fly-leaf. 

"Yes,  it  would  be  very  nice  to  travel  —  oh! 
here  comes  Mrs.  Elliot,  and  we  mustn't  go  spill 
ing  our  berries  in  our  excitement,  like  the  foolish 
milkmaid,  for  a  scolding  from  Samanthy  isn't 
the  sort  of  adventure  we  want." 

"All  the  same,"  muttered  Lally,  wilfully:  "I 
wish  something  would  happen." 

Meanwhile,  Samanthy,  having  finished  her 
afternoon  work,  put  on  a  clean,  calico  dress, 
armed  herself  with  her  knitting,  and  knocked  at 
the  Elder's  study  door. 

"  Ef  you  ain't  too  busy,  sir,  I  'd  like  to  free 
my  mind  a  spell  'bout  the  childun." 


62  GEMINI. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  Samantha,"  said  the 
Elder,  admitting  her.  "  You  do  not  perceive 
any  symptoms  of  illness  about  them,  I  trust," 
he  added  anxiously,  with  a  dim  recollection  of 
scarlet-fever,  which  had  prevailed  in  town  some 
six  months  before. 

"  O  Lor',  no  !  but  I  Ve  bin  a-thinkin'  whether 
or  no  'twouldn't  be  a  good  plan  to  give  'em  a 
year  or  so  to  the  'Cademy.  You  see,  Elder, 
they  're  goin'  on  sixteen,  an'  they're  good,  stiddy 
gals,  that  'ud  make  good  use  o'  their  prevvyliges, 
an'  I  've  simmered  it  over  an'  over  in  my  mind  a 
consid'able  while,  an'  I  've  come  to  the  conclu 
sion  that  seein'  as  how  they  're  Elder's  darters, 
an'  Deacon  Sawyer  's  goin'  to  send  his'n,  an' 
seein'  that  our  gals  hain't  never  bin  out  o'  Bee- 
bury,  nor  had  no  mother  to  kinder  polish  up 
their  manners,  I  b'lieve  it's  what  s/te'd  a-liked 
'em  to  do." 

/—This  pronoun,  strongly  emphasized,  and  ac 
companied  by  a  sharp  sniff —  Samanthy's  usual 
equivalent  for  a  sigh  —  was  well  understood  by 


GEMINI.  63 

the  Elder  to  refer  to  his  wife,  and  he  was 
both  touched  and  convinced  by  the  argument. 
After  a  prolonged  silence,  he  replied,  — 

"I  .will  consider  your  suggestion,  Samantha : 
you  have  been  most  faithful  to  my  little  girls, 
and  I  have  much  respect  for  your  judgment.  I 
suppose  you  had  reference  to  the  Academy  at 
East  Greenville  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  that  ain't  so  fur  off  but  what  they 
could  come  home  for  a  Sarbbath  now  an'  then, 
on  the  stage  ;  an'  Mr.  Coffin  he 's  a  friend  o' 
your'n,  an'  a  real  smart  scholar;  an'  Mis'  Coffin's 
the  right  kind  of  a  woman,  an'  real  pooty-man- 
nered  too.  Ez  to  the  expense,  Elder,  I  guess  I 
c'n  turn  to  an'  make  butter  W  cheese  enough  to 
make  out  the  diff'runce.  It  '11  be  kinder  lone- 

• 

some  without  the  gals,  an'  I  shall  be  glad  of  a 
little  more  bizness,  you  know." 

With  this  highly  ingenious  bit  of  deception, 
Samanthy  rose,  and  abruptly  retired  to  the 
kitchen,  winking  and  sniffing  suspiciously. 

The  next   morning   the  Elder  drove  to  East 


64  GEMINI. 

Greenville,  and,  on  his  return  in  the  evening,  an 
nounced  to  his  daughters  that  they  must  be  in 
readiness  to  enter  Maple-Grove  Academy  at  the 

• 

beginning  of  the  Autumn  term.  Their  surprise 
and  delight  were  characteristically  shown.  Penny 
flushed  deeply,  and  tears  filled  her  eyes;  while 
Lally  flung  her  arms  around  her  grave  father's 
neck,  and  thanked  him  eagerly. 

Samanthy  received  the  news  philosophically, 
and  had  an  errand  at  Mrs.  Sawyer's  that  very 
afternoon.  Hiram  alone  was  dismayed,  and 
went  about  his  work  for  several  days  after, 
with  such  a  disconsolate  air,  that  his  sister  took 
him  sharply  to  task,  telling  him  that  he  "  looked 
ez  womble-cropped  ez  a  cow  without  horns,  an' 
they're  the  meanest-lookin'  critters  goin'." 

She  kept  the  girls  very  busy,  sewing  on  their 
outfit,  which  was  quite  elegant  in  their  eyes  ; 
and  no  European  tour  was  ever  anticipated 
^fith  more  rosy  imaginings,  than  was  this  twenty- 
mile  journey  and  year's  absence,  by  our  simple 
maidens. 


GEMINI.  65 

"  Did  you  ever  go  to  an  Academy,  Samanthy  ? " 
asked  Lally  one  day. 

"Wai,  I  did,  an'  I  didn't,"  was  the  reply. 
"  You  see,  I  sot  out  to  go,  when  I  was  bout  's 
old  's  you  be,  an'  Reuben  he  —  that 's  my  oldest 
brother  —  was  a-goin'  too.  We  was  pooty  poor, 
an'  hed  to  live  in  a  dreffle  narrer-contracted  way 
for  a  long  time,  to  git  the  money  for  clo'es  an' 
so  on,  but  we  got  it  at  the  long  last,  an'  begun 
the  term  as  pleased  as  could  be,  you'd  better 
believe.  We  didn't  go  boardin'  in  a  stylish  way 
to  the  Principle's  house,  as  you  're  a-goin'  to ; 
but  Reuben  he  laid  out  to  sleep  with  a  boy 
that  lived  near  the  'Cademy,  an'  he  was  a-goin* 
to  take  care  o'  the  school-rooms,  build  the  fires, 
an'  sweep,  you  know,  to  pay  for  his  teachin'  ;  an' 
I  had  an  attic  room,  an'  paid  for  it,  doing  chores  ; 
and  we  found  our  own  pervishuns,  with  what 
mother  could  send  us  by  the  stage  onst  a  week. 
Wai,  we  made  out  toll'able  well  for  'bout  two 
months,  an'  was  gittin'  quite  a  notion  of  the 
lessons,  when,  all  of  a  suddin,  father  he 
5 


66  GEMINI. 

clapped-to  an'  died !  He  'd  bin  poorly,  off  'n' 
on,  for  more  'n  a  year,  but  still  we  warn't  no 
ways  perpared  for  that;  an'  mother  she  sorter  gev 
right  up,  an'  I  hed  ter  go  home  an'  nuss  her, 
an'  see  ter  things  ;  an'  Reuben  he  hed  ter  go,  too, 
to  take  care  o'  the  farm,  an'  that  was  the  last  o' 
the  'Cademy  we  hed.  O'  course,  we'd  ruther 
hev  kep'  on,  but  everybody  can't  hev  their 
'd  withers  ;  an'  when  a  fam'ly  breakin'-up  comes, 
why,  there  you  be,  an'  you  've  got  to  do  the  best 
you  can  about  it." 

Samanthy  sniffed  vigorously,  and  suddenly 
added,  "  Pensyrosy  Mason !  You  're  a-bastin' 
that  'ere  sleeve  in  hind-side-afore,  so  we  '11  jest 
quit  talkin'." 


GEMINI.  67 


CHAPTER    VII. 


"  As  high  as  we  have  mounted  in  delight, 
In  our  dejection  do  we  sink  as  low." 


WORDSWORTH. 


r  I  ^WO  more  years  passed,  busy  and  almost 
cloudless  for  our  girls.  Penny  dearly 
loved  study,  and  was  happy  anywhere  with  her 
sister.  Lally  keenly  enjoyed  the  stir  and  ex 
citement  of  a  large  school  of  boys  and  girls, 
of  a  better  class  than  she  had  hitherto  met,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  indisputable  belleship  to 
which  she  soon  attained  among  them.  For  the 
Elder,  Samanthy,  and  Hiram,  the  months  went 
more  slowly  and  monotonously  than  ever ;  but 
hard  work,  and  brave,  unselfish  hearts  carried 
them  along.  Unspeakable  was  their  pride  and 
happiness  when  the  girls  came  home  from  time 
to  time ;  entire  their  unconsciousness  of  the 
fact  (bravely  fought  against  by  the  sisters)  that, 


68  GEMINI. 

at  every  vacation,  home  seemed  to  them  smaller 
and  more  homely,  Father  more  quaint  and  queer, 
Samanthy  more  grotesque,  Hiram  more  sheepish 
and  rustic.  At  last  came  the  crowning  pride 
and  bustle,  the  long-dreaded  partings  of  Grad 
uation  Day,  which  the  Elder  attended  in  his 
least  rusty  black  suit,  Samanthy  in  a  new  scar 
let  and  green  plaid  poplin,  and  Hiram  in  his 
first  tall  hat.  Then  Penserosa  and  Allegra 
came  home  "  for  good  ;  "  tall,  sweet -looking, 
gentle-mannered  girls  of  eighteen,  each  with 
an  ornamental  printed  diploma  a  foot  square, 
a  well-filled  autograph  album,  many  promises 
to  "  write  often "  from  school  cronies,  a  secret 
shrinking  from  the  homely  quietude  of  Beebury, 
and  a  fervent  resolve  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

Shrewdly  anticipating  that  time  would  at 
first  hang  heavily  upon  their  hands,  Samanthy 
had  "blocked  out"  a  set  of  shirts  to  be  made 
for  the  Elder,  and  a  gay  patch-work  quilt,  all 
of  "  spandy  new  caliker  stars,"  for  the  best-room 
bed  ;  but  profane  Lally  scoffed  at  these  homely 
diversions. 


GEMINI.  69 

"Why  should  I  prick  my  fingers  rough  with 
patch-work  for  our  best  room,  when  nobody  ever . 
stays  in  it  but  snuffy  old  ministers  and  mission 
ary  agents  ?  "  she  demanded  of  her  sister.  "  Put 
down  that  wrist-band,  Pen,  and  let's  go  over 
to  the  Hollow  and  take  tea  with  Mrs.  Flanders 
and  Clary,  and  have  Hiram  come  for  us  with 
the  wagon  after  milking;  then  he'll  take  us 
a  little  ride,  if  you  ask  him;  he'd  take  us  to 
Coneford,  I  believe,  if  'twould  please  you. 
Come  ! " 

When  winter  set  in,  with  its  howling  storms, 
and  snow-blockaded  roads,  poor  Lally  was  more 
restless  than  ever.  One  day  in  December,  when 
they  had  been  storm-bound  for  four  days,  she 
amused  herself  by  trying  all  sorts  of  new  dishes 
"out  of  the  cookery-book,"  till  Samanthy  drove 
her  from  the  kitchen.  Then  she  flung  herself 
down  beside  her  tranquil  sister,  and  took  up  the 
despised  sewing  in  a  fit  of  despairing  penitence. 
"We  are  just  like  our  two  samplers  on  the  wall 
there,  Pen  !  "  she  remarked  presently,  —  "finislied 


70  GEMINI 

and  framed,  and  hung  up  in  the  parlor  to  fade  ! 
Those  roses  were  pink  when  we  worked  them, 
but  they're  dull  and  pale  now,  and  by  and  by 
they  '11  be  only  yellowish  white ;  but  they  '11  hang 
there  still,  and  Samanthy  '11  clean  the  glasses 
once  a  year,  and  keep  on  admiring  them  as  long 
as  she  lives  !  And  it  will  be  just  so  with  us  :  we 
shall  get  paler,  and  yellower,  and  dryer,  year  after 
year,  and  nothing  will  happen;  and  we  shall  be 
called  '  the  old-maid  Masons  ; '  but  Hiram  will 
still  worship  you  —  no,  I  wont  hush,  Penny, — 
and  father  will  keep  on  calling  us  '  children,' 
and  Samanthy  will  tutor  us  to  the  end  of  the 
chapter ! " 

"  Lally  dear,"  said  Pen,  after  a  hearty  laugh  at 
this  picture,  "  you  don't  feel  like  sewing ;  get  a 
book,  and  read  aloud  a  while." 

"  But  I  'm  sick  of  every  book  in  the  house.  I 
believe  I  could  say  '  Northanger  Abbey'  by  heart, 
a-ntl  I  'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  read  '  Bennett's  Let 
ters  to  a  Young  Lady,'  or  '  Father  Clement,'  or 
'  Ccelcbs  in  Search  of  a  Wife,'  or  '  The  Mother's 


GEMINI.  71 

Assistant,'  any  more!  Why  don't  we  take  the 
'  Atlantic,'  as  Mrs.  Coffin  does,  or  '  Harper's  Mag 
azine'?" 

"  I  don't  suppose  we  can  afford  it ;  you  know 
father  only  has  four  hundred  dollars  a  year,:  but, 
oh !  I  wish  we  could  earn  something  ourselves, 
and  take  one !  How  beautiful  it  would  be  to 
have  it  coming  once  a  month !  "  Her  brown 
eyes  flashed  eagerly.  "  Lally,  I  wonder  if  I 
couldn't  keep  school !  " 

"  You  never  shall,"  cried  her  sister,  hugging 
her :  "  I  can't  spare  you,  and  you  would  grow 
prim  and  vinegar-faced,  and  you  couldn't  keep 
order  with  your  sweet  little  voice ;  the  boys 
would  scare  you  to  death,  and  I  shouldn't  know 
you  when  you  came  home." 

After  this  incoherent  remonstrance,  Lally 
pulled  away  her  sister's  work,  having  cast  aside 
her  own  some  time  before,  and  dragged  her  to 
the  window,  to  see  if  the  clouds  were  not  breaking 
away.  "  There 's  Hiram  back  from  the  store  !  " 
she  presently  cried,  "let's  come  out  in  the  barn 


72  GEMINI. 

and  consult  him  !  Perhaps  we  could  pick  berries 
next  summer,  and  he  would  sell  them  in  Cone- 
ford  for  us."  And  away  she  went,  through 
kitchen  and  shed,  into  the  barn ;  Penny  linger 
ing  to  close  the  doors  which  her  headlong  sister 
left  swinging,  in  spite  of  Samanthy's  "jumping 
tooth-ache."  Hiram  was  quite  fired  by  the 
plan  ;  for,  though  not  scholarly  enough  to  enjoy 
books  by  himself,  he  dearly  loved  to  hear  the 
girls  read  aloud,  and  would  listen  for  hours,  with 
unflagging  interest. 

"  Pickin'  an'  sellin'  berries  ain't  no  use,"  he 
said  :  "  there 's  too  many  in  the  bizness  a'ready, 
an'  I  don't  wanter  see  them  hands  all  sunburnt- 
up;  but  ef  you've  a  mind  ter  hire  the  Widder 
Green's  childun  to  pick  'em,  an'  you  make  'em 
inter  jam,  I  guess  I  c'n  sell  that,  in  Coneford, 
to  some  o'  the  hotel  folks,  when  I  take  down 
my  shoes.  I  'm  a-goin,  with  a  load  o'  wood,  next 
week,  an'  I  '11  see  ef  I  can't  start  a  bargain." 

"  O  Hiram,  that 's  very  good  of  you ! "  cried  Pen, 
in  her  sweet,  fervent  way :  "  if  you  only  will  help  us, 
we  '11  read  to  you  and  Samanthy  every  evening  !  " 


GEMINI.  73 

Her  cheeks  glowed,  her  eyes  beamed  grate 
fully  on  him.  Hiram's  heart  beat  faster,  and  he 
inwardly  resolved  that,  if  the  money  couldn't  be 
made  in  jam,  it  should  in  shoes ;  but  he  only 
responded,  — 

"That's  all  right,  Penny;  now  you  run  in  to 
the  fire,  or  your  little  nose  '11  be  froze  clean  off. 
Lally !  Stop  a-stuffin'  that  'ere  hoss  with  oats  ! 
you  '11  git  him  so  lively  he  '11  stomp  his  stall 
down !  Run  in,  I  say,  and  tell  Samanthy  I  'm 
starvin'  for  my  supper." 

When  Hiram  next  went  to  Coneford,  he  took, 
in  addition  to  his  usual  load,  four  jars  of  rasp 
berry  jam,  which  Samanthy  and  the  girls  agreed 
they  could  spare  from  last  summer's  store,  "  an' 
not  scrimp  your  father,  nor  Hiram  neither." 

"  We  can  eat  cider-apple  sauce,"  said  Penny. 

"And  what  is  good  enough  for  us  is  good 
enough  for  agents  and  colporteurs,"  added  saucy 
Lally. 

It  was  late  when  Hiram  returned,  but  the 
girls  were  sitting  up  wide  awake,  while  Sa- 


74  GEMINI. 

manthy  was  snoring  over  her  knitting,  and  a 
good  supper  was  keeping  hot  on  the  hearth. 
He  reported  the  sale  of  the  jam  for  two  dollars, 
and  the  agreement  to  take  two  dozen  more  jars 
next  season.  "  So  there's  your  magazine  money," 
he  added,  throwing  down  a  five-dollar  bill ;  "  an' 
now  I  'm  in  a  hurry  for  my  supper." 

"  Oh,  how  good  of  him  to  pay  in  advance ; 
and  how  kind  of  you  to  see  about  it !  "  cried 
the  girls,  unsuspiciously. 

Samanthy  looked  at  Hiram,  who  was  a  little 
red,  but  she  said  nothing ;  and  then  the  question 
came  up  which  magazine  should  be  subscribed 
for,  and  how  the  letter  should  be  worded. 
Thence  ensued  some  of  the  happiest  hours  of 
their  lives.  The  monthly  arrival  of  the  mag 
azine  was  looked  for  as  eagerly,  hailed  as  joy 
fully,  as  was  ever  mail  steamer  by  a  foreign 
colony.  Every  evening,  between  milking-time 
atjd  ten-o'clock  prayers,  as  long  as  it  lasted, 
Penny  and  Lally  read  aloud  in  turn,  while 
Samanthy  knitted,  and  Hiram,  with  jack-kmfe 


GEMINI.  75 

and  sand-paper,  fashioned  a  cream-skimmer  or 
a  spoon  from  a  bit  of  birch  or  maple.  Occa 
sionally,  the  Elder  would  join  the  little  circle  ; 
but  more  frequently  he  was  shut  up,  as  of  old, 
in  his  study.  And  the  winter  wore  away  ;  the 
short  days  filled  with  housework  and  sewing, 
the  evenings  brightened  by  the  magazine  and 
neighborly  calls  ;  and  though  impatient  Lally, 
inheriting  all  her  mother's  dislike  of  cold  and 
snow,  often  declared  that  the  drifts  never  would 
melt,  the  earth  never  reappear,  much  less  be 
green  again,  yet  leaves  and  flowers  came  at 
last,  and  with  them  a  great  surprise,  —  a  letter 
for  the  Elder  from  his  dead  wife's  sister,  the 
"Aunt  Virginia,"  whose  carefully  sloped  and 
shaded  handwriting  the  girls  had  often  studied 
on  the  fly-leaf  of  "  Northanger  Abbey."  It  was 
dated  "  Norfolk,  Va.,"  and  ran  thus:  — 

"  MY  DEAR  BROTHER,  —  In  spite  of  the  long  interval 
of  years,  so  charged  with  changes  and  sorrows  for 
us  both,  I  venture  to  believe  that  we  are  still  friends, 
and  that  I  may  confidently  look  to  you  for  assistance 


76  GEMINI. 

in  a  matter  I  will  presently  mention.  You  may  re 
member  that,  soon  after  your  union  with  our  beloved 
Maria,  you  received  the  announcement  of  my  mar 
riage  to  Dr.  Arundel  Lee,  of  this  city.  Our  union 
proved  a  most  happy  one,  and  only  terminated  a  few 
months  ago,  my  honored  husband  being  taken  from 
me  in  February  last,  after  two  years  of  patiently 
borne  suffering  and  disease.  When  the  first  bewil 
dering  shock  of  separation  was  over,  I  woke  to  find 
myself  a  lonely  widow,  with  a  very  moderate  income, 
an  only  son,  brought  up  in  expensive  habits  and 
tastes,  and  now  twenty  years  old,  and  soon  to  grad 
uate  from College,  in  this  State.  My  nerves 

and  general  health  are  greatly  shattered  by  long  attend 
ance  on  my  dear  husband,  while  his  greater  age  and 
force  of  character  have  so  shielded  me  from  all  care 
and  responsibility,  that,  in  matters  of  business,  I  am 
helpless  and  ignorant  as  a  child.  As  dear  Clayton 
desires  to  finish  his  college  course,  and  then  study 

law  in ,  and  my  physician  prescribes  for  me 

complete  change  and  northern  air  for  a  few  months,  it 
has  occurred  to  me  that  you  might  advise  me  of  some 
quiet,  healthy  spot  near  you,  where  I  could  recuperate 
my  energies,  live  economically,  and  cultivate  the  ac 
quaintance  of  dear  Maria's  child,  who,  I  trust,  has 
-b^en  spared  to  be  a  comfort  to  your  declining  years. 
If  you  know  of  a  quiet,  respectable  family,  without 
small  children,  who  could  accommodate  me  with  a 
sunny,  airy  room  on  the  second  floor,  and  furnish  good 


GEMINI.  77 

country  fare,  at  not  more  than  six  dollars  a  week,  I 
should  be  glad  to  come  by  the  tenth  of  June.  What 
a  sad  pleasure  it  will  be  to  recall  the  happy  Past  with 
you  ! 

"  With  a  kiss  to  the  dear  child,  believe  me, 
"  Affectionately  your  sister, 

"VIRGINIA  DUDLEY  LEE." 

Profound  and  various  were  the  emotions  excited 
by  this  letter.  The  Elder,  shaken  and  confused 
by  so  unexpected  a  lifting  of  the  curtain  of  his 
past  youth,  came  out  of  his  study  looking  quite 
pale,  gave  the  letter  to  Penny,  saying,  "Here, 
Maria,  read  it  to  the  rest,  and  decide  what  is 
our  duty ; "  then,  taking  his  umbrella,  though 
it  was  a  perfectly  clear  day,  he  followed  the  hill 
path  to  the  upper  pastures,  where  he  was  wont 
to  meditate,  leaving  his  half-written  sermon  in 
the  middle  of  the  sentence,  —  "And  still  more 
emphatically  true  is  it,  my  brethren,  that"  —  and 
never,  to  his  dying  day,  could  he  remember  what 
he  had  intended  to  write  next. 

Penny  read  the  letter  to  Samanthy  as  well  as 
she  could,  when  Lally  was  hanging  on  her 


78  GEMINI. 

shoulder,  interrupting  her  with  laughter  and 
tears,  with  exclamations  and  questions,  and  her 
own  hands  were  trembling  with  excitement,  and 
her  breath  coming  fast  with  the  half  yearning 
for,  half  shrinking  from,  this  new  relative. 

"  Lonely  wiclder,  indeed  !  "  sniffed  Samanthy, 
when  the  girls  had  carried  the  letter  away,  to  be 
talked  over,  and  re-read  by  themselves,  in  their 
favorite  confabbing  place,  the  broad  stone  step 
of  the  door  opening  into  the  apple-orchard.  -  "  A 
designin',  underminin'  thing !  '  Shattered  narves,' 
has  she?  I'll  shatter  her,  ef  she  tries  any  of 
her  tricks  on  our  blessed  Elder  !  She  a  helpless 
ignorant  child  !  No,  you  don't,  ma'am  !  Not 
while  Samanthy  Ann  Jackman  knows  what 's 
what !  You  may  come,  for  I  s'pose  that  '11  be 
the  eend  on't,  but  you  dorit  play  off  no  step- 
motherin  on  my  gals,  and  so  I  tell  you  !  '  Dear 
Maria's  child,'  indeed !  when  it 's  plain  to  be  seen 
•she  'd  forgot  'twas  twins,  an'  even  wasn't  sartin 
whether  'twas  boy  or  gal !  An'  who 's  gev  her 
a  right  to  talk  'bout  '  declinin'  years '  to  him,  I 


GEMINI.  79 

wonder!  It's  my  belief  she's  older  'n  he  is, 
by  a  consid'able !  Howsomedever,  we  shall  see 
what  we  shall  see ;  an'  ef  I  've  bin  able  to  pur- 
tect  the  fam'ly  for  'most  eighteen  year  from  all 
the  widders  an'  ol'  maids  in  our  perrish  an'  the 
next,  I  cal'late  I  c'n  stan'  one  summer  of  this 
Virginny  sister  too  !  " 

Meanwhile  the  sisters,  quite  unaware  of  their 
father's  pain  or  Samanthy's  jealous  fears,  in 
dulged  in  the  happiesfr  anticipations  ;  wondered 
if  they  should  call  her  "Aunt  Virginia,"  or 
"  Aunt  Lee ; "  longed  to  have  her  tell  them  all 
about  their  mother's  girlhood  ;  laughed  in  fancy 
ing  her  surprise  at  finding  "  two  of  us  ; "  timidly 
speculated  as  to  what  their  cousin  Clayton  might 
be  like,  and  whether  they  should  ever  see  him. 
At  last  they  ran  up  to  inspect  the  spare  room 
in  the  light  of  this  new  discovery ;  threw  open 
its  windows  and  blinds,  to  see  if  it  might  be 
called  "  airy  and  sunny,"  thereby  dislodging 
scores  of  half-torpid  wasps ;  and  agreeing  that 
here,  at  last,  was  an  undeniable  occasion  for  get- 


80  GEMINI. 

ting  out  the  best  pink  satin  pin-cushion,  the 
white-knotted  fringed  curtains  and  table-covers, 
which  Samanthy  would  keep  laid  away,  and  a 
sufficient  motive  for  finishing  the  long-neglected 
"star"  bed-quilt.  A  cordial  invitation  to  his 
"  esteemed  sister "  to  "  make  her  home  with 
us,"  if  she  could  be  "  comfortable  with  our 
somewhat  primitive  habits,"  was  despatched  a 
few  days  after ;  and  by  the  middle  of  June 
the  long-looked-for  lady  actually  arrived.  Hiram 
was  detailed  to  meet  her  at  the  nearest  railroad 
station,  ten  miles  from  Beebury;  the  Elder  being 
unavoidably  engaged  at  a  funeral  that  afternoon ; 
and,  for  at  least  an  hour  before  he  could  possibly 
return,  the  twins  kept  up  what  Samanthy,  knit 
ting  on  the  front  door-step,  called  "  an  everlastin' 
canter-goin',"  from  the  east  attic  window,  which 
commanded  a  view  of  the  road,  to  the  freshly- 
arranged  spare  room  and  the  generously-spread 
'-"tea-table,  and  then  back  again.  From  Saman- 
thy's  descriptions  of  their  mother,  and  their 
father's  hazy  recollections  of  this  sister,  their 


GEMINI.  8 1 

imaginations,  further  aided  by  her  letter,  had 
constructed  a  tall,  slender  Aunt  Virginia,  pale 
and  worn  with  watching  and  weeping  •,  tremu 
lous  in  voice,  tearful,  clad  in  flowing  black  robes, 
and  of  a  mildly  melancholy  temper.  Samanthy, 
on  the  contrary,  expected  to  see,  and  was  pre 
pared  to  resist,  a  meddling,  suspicious,  fault 
finding  person,  whose  constant  purpose  would 
be  to  dethrone  her,  ridicule  Hiram,  oppress  the 
girls,  and  marry  the  Elder.  Aunt  Virginia  dis 
appointed  all  these  expectations  from  the -first 
moment,  when  she  appeared  to  their  astonished 
eyes,  dressed  in  a  fresh,  pretty  buff  linen  suit, 
which  as  completely  covered  her  black  dress,  as 
did  her  stylishly-twisted  blue  veil,  her  bonnet. 
She  was  small ;  she  was  plump  ;  she  was  smiling 
and  rosy :  and  there  she  sat  beside  Hiram,  chat 
ting  as  if  they  were  old  friends,  and  making 
benevolent  efforts,  with  her  short  arms,  to  screen 
his  red  bronzed  face  from  the  sun  with  her  own 
pretty  lace-trimmed  parasol.  Samanthy  fled  ; 
but  the  girls,  polite  though  perplexed,  brave 


82  GEMINI. 

though  bewildered,  advanced,  and  stammered  out 
their  little  welcoming  speeches,  in  return  for  the 
close  claspings,  the  eager  kisses,  and  sweet,  flat 
tering  words  of  the  new  aunt. 

"  Such  a  surprise  !  Two  such  dear  girls  !  How 
could  I  have  been  so  stupid  ?  And  your  name, 
you  darling?  Penserosa?  Oh,  how  like  dear, 
romantic  Maria  !  Then  this  sweet  child  is  Alle- 
gra,  of  course.  I  must  kiss  that  fresh  cheek 
again  !  but  really,  really,  I  am  too  dusty  to  touch 
anybody  !  And  there  is  that  kind  young  man 
actually  carrying  my  great  trunk  all  alone.  Oh, 
you  will  break  your  back,  indeed  you  will !  What 
is  his  name?  Oh,  Mr.  Hiram!  Why  he's  gone  ! 
So  obstinate,  but  so  kind !  -Now  tell  me  quick, 
dear,  what  shall  I  pay  him  for  bringing  me  over, 
and  all?" 

"  Pay  !  "  cried  Lally,  "  Why  he  is  Samanthy's 
brother  !  He  lives  here ;  he  is  one  of  the  family ; 
he  would  be  offended  !  " 

"  And  who  is  Samanthy  ?  And  which  is  my 
room,  you  dear,  little,  excitable  thing  ?  "  And, 


GEMINI.  83 

with  an  arm  round  each  niece,  Aunt  Virginia 
went  happily  prattling  in.  Within  an  hour,  she 
had  won  their  hearts  forever,  with  her  really 
sweet,  happy  temper;  her  funny  little  affecta 
tions  of  ignorance,  perplexity,  and  fatigue  ;  her 
pretty  dresses  and  trinkets  ;  her  nice,  refined 
ways;  her  voluble  and  flattering,  but  sincere 
love  for  them  ;  her  willingness  to  talk  indefi 
nitely  about  their  mother,  and  old  times,  and  the 
charms  of  the  South.  What  a  strange,  happy 
sensation  it  was,  to  have  this  new  aunt  to  pet 
and  praise  them,  and  to  be  petted  and  waited  on, 
in  turn,  though  never  exacting  or  selfish  !  .The 
girls  were  in  a  hazy  rapture.  The  days  were 
dull  no  more. 

They  took  their  pretty  aunty  to  walk,  and  to 
drive,  and  to  see  the  neighbors  ;  they  decorated 
her  room,  and  kept  it  clean  too,  with  loving 
care.  They  spent  hours  in  remodelling  their 
wardrobe  under  her  tasteful  supervision,  and 
aided  by  many  a  gift  from  her  stores ;  they  told 
her  all  their  past  adventures,  all  their  fancies 


84  GEMINI. 

and  plans.  Their  father  and  Hiram,  seeing 
them  so  happy,  gave  in  their  allegiance  too ;  and 
even  Samanthy,  rinding  herself  always  deferred 
to,  never  interfered  with,  but  often  and  honestly 
admired  for  her  "extraordinary  capability  and 
neatness,"  and  her  "  touching  devotion  to  these 
dear  girls,"  yielded  at  last,  and  was  heard  ad 
ministering  a  decided  snub  to  'Lecty  Sage,  who 
stigmatized  poor  Aunt  Virginia,  on  the  strength 
of  one  brief  interview  "  betwixt  meetin's  a-Sun- 
day,"  as  "too  much  fuss  an'  feathers."  "An' 
that 's  all  you  know  'bout  it,  'Lecty,"  she  said, 
"you  onny  show  your  shaller  jedgement.  She  's 
one  o'  the  right  kind,  an'  so  I  tell  you  !  an'  I  'd 
orter  know  by  this  time.  For  all  as  pooty  an' 
soft-handed  as  she  looks,  she  ain't  a  bit  too 
proud  to  wipe  up  dishes,  an'  set  the  table,  an' 
shell  peas,  an'  sweep  a  floor,  an'  do  it  well  too  ! 
T'other  day,  when  Hiram  he  was  a-goin'  to  take 
pie  over  to  Greenville,  she  took  hold,  an'  ripped 
up  and  trimmed  over  my  ol'  bunnit,  and  tied  his 
neck-han'kercher's  neat's  you  please;  so  don't 


GEMINI.  85 

let  me  hear  no  more  o'  them  spitefle  remarks  o' 
yourn,  if  you  know  what 's  good  for  yourself." 

This  was  undoubtedly  the  happiest  season  the 
girls  had  ever  known,  and  its  culminating  hour 
was  when  "  Cousin  Clayton  "  arrived,  to  spend 
part  of  September,  and  take  his  mother  home. 
Of  course  they  had  long  been  as  familiar  with 
his  looks  and  many  virtues,  as  a  dozen  different 
daguerreotypes  and  photographs,  and  a  fond 
mother's  praises,  could  make  them ;  but  all 
these  could  not  save  both  from  falling  into 
seemingly  hopeless  deeps  of  shyness,  when  he 
first  stood  before  them,  tall,  slight,  graceful, 
easy,  —  with  his  mother's  sweet,  flattering  voice, 
but  his  own  half-bold,  half-coaxing  eyes  ;  with 
the  first  soft,  un-work-hardened  hands  they  had 
ever  seen  on  a  man,  and  in  such  a  stylish  and 
picturesque  travelling  costume  as  drove  the 
youth  of  Beebury  half-mad  with  rage  and  envy.. 

Alas  for  our  innocent,  impulsive,  change-crav 
ing  Allegra !  Her  woman-heart  began  to  stir  in 
a  new  way,  at  his  first  admiring  glance  ;  its  de- 


86  GEMINI. 

fences  wavered  sadly  when  he  and  she  sang 
together,  and  discovered  how  well  their  voices 
accorded,  sitting  with  only  Pen,  one  moonlight 
night,  in  the  favorite  orchard-door ;  and,  he,  all 
unknowing  and  uncaring,  rode  in  conqueror  of 
that  ill-kept  maiden  fortress,  the  first  time  (ah, 
not  the  last ! )  when  he  claimed  —  as  a  cousinly 
of -course — a  long,  sweet,  good-night  kiss,  at  the 
gate,  coming  home  from  the  "sing  "  at  the  school- 
house,  which  was  one  of  the  few  evening  dissipa 
tions  known  to  Beebury  youth.  Foolish  Lally 
never  stopped  to  wonder  why  he  let  Hiram  and 
Penny  get  so  far  a-head  when  he  took  his  cous 
inly  good-night,  or  why  her  sister  was  never 
asked  for  the  same.  And  more  foolish  Saman- 
thy !  once  so  fearful  of  the  mother's  designs 
upon  the  Elder,  and  now  all  unsuspicious  of  the 
dangers  threatening  the  weaker  and  more  pre 
cious  lamb  of  the  flock.  What  protected  Pense- 
rtfSa  from  the  slightest  feeling  of  tender  interest 
in  her  handsome  cousin  ?  Was  it  the  secretly- 
treasured  remembrance  of  certain  looks  and 


GEMINI.  87 

words  of  grave  John  Stedman,  the  assistant- 
teacher  at  East  Greenville,  during  her  happy 
school-years  ?  Or  was  it  because,  with  the  keen 
intuition  of  twin's-love,  she  saw  whither  Lally's 
heart  was  tending  ?  The  Elder  was  too  much 
absorbed  in  his  studies  and  parish  work  to  notice 
any  thing ;  Samanthy  regarded  the  girls  as  mere 
children  still,  and  was  too  busy  with  her  enlarged 
household  cares  to  have  any  thoughts  beyond 
providing  such  meals  as  should  do  credit  to  the 
family,  and  such  clothing  for  the  twins  as  should 
prevent  their  city  relatives  from  being  ashamed 
of  them.  The  faithful  woman  mixed  and  baked, 
swept,  scoured,  washed,  and  ironed  indefatigably, 
through  those  autumn  weeks  ;  refusing  all  aid 
from  her  charges,  and  insisting  that  "not  a  stroke 
o'  work  should  they  do  till  the  folks  was  gone." 
Hiram  had  more  opportunities  for  observing  the 
young  people,  for  they  insisted  on  helping  (?) 
him  in  field  and  barn,  riding  home  on  loads 
of  barley  and  brake-bedding,  and  even  of  wood ; 
picking  apples,  and  going  for  the  "grist,"  and 


88  GEMINI. 

wiling  him  away  to  be  their  guide  up  Bald 
Mountain.  He  had  many  thoughts,  but  he  kept 
them  to  himself,  and  so  did  Mrs.  Lee,  whose 
views  may  have  been  inferred  from  her  parting 
words :  "  I  shall  depend  on  a  good  long  visit 
from  you  both,  my  darlings,  by-and-by,  for  I 
shall  be  dreadfully  lonely  after  Clayton  goes 
away  for  the  winter"  As  for  handsome  Clay 
ton,  he  kissed  both  his  cousins  good-by  frankly 
and  heartily,  and  only  Hiram  noticed  that  Penny 
looked  surprised  and  grew  rosy,  while  Lally 
was  still  and  pale.  "  Mind  and  write  to  a  fellow 
often,"  he  gayly  added,  as  he  stepped  into  the  old 
wagon  after  his  mother.  Hiram  gave  the  reins 
a  sharp  jerk,  and  away  they  went, —  the  girls  re 
maining  at  the  gate  to  watch  them  out  of  sight, 
while  the  Elder  and  Samanthy  went  in,  doubt 
less  feeling  a  great  sense  of  relief  that  the  visit 
was  over. 

x£Tot  so  the  girls  :  they  felt  bereaved  and  sor 
rowful.  "Come,  dear,"  said  Pen,  at  last,  putting 
her  arm  around  her  sister,  "  we  must  go  in :  it  is 


GEMINI.  89 

really  cold  to-day,  —  the  summer  is  fairly  over." 
For  once,  Lally  was  silent.  Her  lips  trembled, 
and  she  turned  obediently,  but  without  reply. 
With  one  accord,  they  went  into  their  aunt's 
room,  but  lately  so  full  of  her  cheery  presence, 
and  now  so  empty  and  still ;  a  sudden  draught 
from  the  closing  door  brought  down  a  shower  of 
dry  yellow  leaves  from  the  vine  which  Clayton 
and  Lally  had  carefully  trained  over  the  window, 
and,  as  they  fell  upon  the  deserted  bed,  and  slid 
along  the  floor  with  a  sad,  sighing  sound,  poor 
Lally  flung  herself  down  among  the  pillows, 
exclaiming,  "  Oh  yes,  Pen  !  the  summer  is  gone 
indeed,"  and  sobbed  and  cried  like  a  child. 


cp  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

"  But  each  day  brings  its  petty  dust, 
Our  soon-choked  souls  to  fill, 
And  we  forget  because  we  must, 

And  not  because  we  will. ' ' 

MATTHEW  ARNOLD. 

'  I  "HE  condition  of  absent-minded  listlessness 
into  which  Allegra  began  to  fall,  after  the 
departure  of  her  aunt  and  Clayton,  was  sharply 
and  entirely  broken  up  by  the  counter-irritant  of 
serious  illness  in  the  family. 

Samanthy's  overtasked  strength  gave  way, 
and  for  several  weeks  she  lay  helpless  and  suf 
fering,  in  the  horrors  of  typhoid  fever.  The  girls 
had  absolutely  never  seen  her  in  bed  before,  so 
early  and  unflagging  had  been  her  service ;  and 
they  realized  for  the  first  time,  when  every  thing 
€ame  upon  them,  what  her  labors  had  been. 

They  reproached  themselves  bitterly  for  allow 
ing  her  to  exhaust  herself,  that  they  might  enjoy; 


GEMINI.  91 

nor  did  Dr.  Hopkins  spare  them,  after  he  had 
extorted  confession  from  his  patient.  "  I  'm  free 
to  confess,  Doctor,  that  I  've  ben  an'  gone  an' 
made  a  fool  o'  myself,  settin'  up  to  be  tougher  'n 
a  pitch-pine  knot,  thro'  hayin',  an'  dog-days,  an' 
all !  Sewin'  o'  nights  too  !  I  s'pose  I  'd  orter 
a-let  the  gals  go  down  cellar  for  the  butter  'n' 
pies,  'n'  things  to  lay  the  table,  when  I  wuz  all 
het-up  with  ironin',  or  bakin'  in  the  brick  oven ; 
an'  our  cellar's  jest  like  ice,  the  hottest  day, — 
but  there!  I  kinder  hated  to  call  on  'em,  when 
they  wuz  havin'  a  good  time  with  their  mother's 
folks,  an'  now  here  I  be !  Pride  's  got  a  fall !  an' 
I  've  got  to  stan'  it  the  best  I  can,  bein'  waited 
on  by  them  childun,  an'  listenin'  to  that  shif  less 
Widder  Elli't,  scufflin'  an'  putterin'  round  in  my 
kitchen."  Poor  Samanthy  tossed  feverishly  on 
her  pillow,  and  tried  to  follow,  by  listening,  what 
was  going  on  in  her  beloved  domains  below, 
until  delirium  came,  and  led  her  weary  mind 
away,  into  vast  and  unknown  halls,  to  whose 
mysteries  her  unceasing"  voice,  now  childish  and 


92  GEMINI. 

happy,  now  terrified  and  distressed,  was  the  only 
clew. 

The  whole  of  October  and  half  of  November 
were  gone  before  the  hope  of  the  faithful 
woman's  recovery  was  assured.  Long,  sad, 
and  very  busy,  were  the  weeks  to  our  girls,  so 
inexperienced  in  care  and  sickness  ;  although  the 
neighbors  were  kind,  the  Doctor  devoted,  and 
Hiram  perfectly  untiring  in  his  devices  and  efforts 
to  lighten  their  labors  and  add  to  their  comfort. 

"  I  don't  believe  we  ever  really  knew  what 
Thanksgiving  meant  before,"  sighed  Lally,  as 
she  took  the  last  pie  out  of  the  brick  oven,  the 
day  before  that  favorite  New  England  feast,  and 
set  it  to  cool  on  top  of  the  long  meal-chest  in 
the  back-room.  "I'm  sure  /  've  never  been  so 
thankful  as  I  am  this  year.  Isn't  that  a  show, 
Pen  ?  Six  mince,  eight  pumpkin,  five  apple,  and 
two  cranberry,  besides  that  great  jar  of  mince 
meat  !  And  every  bit  our  ownty-donty  work ! 
How  much  nicer  it  is  than  when  Mrs.  Elliot  was 


GEMINI.  93 

here !  Now  that  Samanthy  is  gaining  so,  and 
we  can  consult  her,  I  don't  mind  the  work  much  : 
do  you,  Pen  ?  To  be  sure,  the  soles  of  my  feet 
do  ache  like  toothache,  standing  so  long  ;  but 
who  cares  for  that,  when  dear  old  Samanthy  is 
coming  downstairs  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  And  we  've  got  two  magazines  saved  up  to 
read,  now  that  she  '11  be  here  to  listen  again ; 
and  we  sha'n't  be  too  tired  to  keep  awake  after 
dark,"  responded  Pen,  heartily. 

At  this  moment,  Hiram,  who  had  been  to 
"  the  store,"  was  heard  stamping  the  snow  from 
his  feet  on  the  steps.  Lally,  forgetting  fatigue, 
sprang  to  open  the  door,  and  exclaimed  with 
delight  when  she  saw  his  arms  full  of  bundles,  — 

"  O  Hiram  !  I  do  believe  some  of  those  are 
'donations,'  aren't  they?  What  fun  it  is  to  be 
a  minister's  family  !  You  're  always  having  sur 
prises  !  Do  let  me  see,  quick ! " 

"  Now,  Lally  Mason,  hands  off,"  cried  the  good 
fellow,  as  pleased  as  she. 

"  S'manthy  gave  me  a  lot  of  arrants  at  the 


94  GEMINI. 

store,  an'  how  do  you  know  but  that's  all  I  've 
got?" 

"  No,  no,"  laughed  Pen,  "  she  only  sent  for 
nutmegs,  and  cream-o'-tartar,  and  linen  thread, 
and  they  are  all  in  your  pockets,  I  'm  sure.  You 
can't  cheat  us  so,  Hiram  !  " 

"Dear,  dear,  what  pesterin'  critters  women 
be!"  said  Hiram,  holding  on  to  his  parcels,  while 
the  girls  followed  him  about,  as  he  vainly  sought 
a  place  to  put  them. 

"  Pies  all  over  the  meal-chest  —  dishes  on  the 
table — cat 'in  the  rockin'  chair  —  guess  I'll  go 
up  in  S'manthy's  room ;  she  ain't  asleep,  is 
she  ? " 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  and  up  he  went,  followed  still  by 
the  laughing  girls.  They  found  Samanthy  sit 
ting  up  in  a  big,  cushioned  chair,  pale  and  thin, 
but  cheery  and  crisp  as  ever,  indulging  her  work- 
loving  hands  with  a  little  stocking-mending. 
'Hiram  deposited  his  larger  bundles  on  a  chest- 
of-drawers,  and,  producing  some  little  ones  from 
his  pockets,  handed  them  to  his  sister,  saying, — 


GEMINI.  95 

"Here's  your  arrants,  S'manthy,  an'  sure  as 
you  're  alive,  the  Deacon  wouldn't  take  nothin' 
for  'em.  '  Seein'  it 's  Thanksgivin','  says  he,  '  an' 
seein'  you  've  had  sickness  in  the  fam'ly.'  I 
hope  to  goodness  the  ol'  man  ain't  struck  with 
death,  nor  nothin' ;  but  I  come  right  off,  soon  's 
I  'd  thanked  him,  for  fear  he  'd  change  his  mind  ; 
an'  as  I  was  goin',  up  come  Bee//£0ven  Buttrick, 
in  his  ol'  red  pung,  an'  called  to  me  to  wait, 
'cause  he'd  got  some  things  for  our  folks,  his 
mother  'd  sent,  an'  mebbe  I  'd  take  'em,  an'  save 
him  comin'  up  the  hill,  the  driffs  was  so  bad. 
'  It's  wild-grape  jel,'  says  he,  'for  S'manthy,  an' 
here's  a  box  o'  honey  mebbe  the  gals  would  like.' 
He  kinder  colored  up,  an'  then  I  saw  he  had  his 
Sunday  clo'es  on,  an'  I  sorter  mistrusted  .he 
wished  he  hadn't  met  me." 

"Sko!"  cried  Samanthy,  with  something  of 
her  old  snap  ;  "  don't  talk  sparkin'  nonsense  to 
these  childun  yet-a-while." 

"  Beethoven  Buttrick,  indeed  ! "  muttered  Lally, 
under  her  breath,  with  her  little  nose  in  the  air. 


96  GEMINI. 

Beebury  swains  had  lost  ground  with  her,  for 
ever  since  Clayton's  advent. 

"  It 's  delicious  honey,  though,"  said  gentler 
Penserosa  ;  "  look,  Samanthy  !  and  very  kind  of 
him,  I  'm  sure.  And  this  jelly  is  as  clear  as  glass. 
What's  this  last  bundle,  Hiram?" 

"  Oh  !  that 's  three  pair  o'  socks  for  your  father 
Mis'  Dr.  Hopkins  sent ;  kind  of  a  good-will  orf- 
frin',  I  guess,  'cause  we've  given  the  Doctor  such 
credit  by  S'manthy  's  gettin'  well.  Here,  Penny, 
I  '11  carry  that  honey  down.  It 's  too  heavy  for 
you ;  and  look-a-here,  Lally,  I  'most  forgot ;  here 's 
a  letter  I  got  to  the  office,  from  your  aunt,  I  guess. 
That's  better 'n  Buttrick  honey:  ain't  it?" 

Lally  received  it  joyfully,  and,  sitting  on  the 
floor,  with  her  head  resting  against  Samanthy's 
knee,  read  the  pleasant,  prattling  pages,  once 
aloud,  and  twice  to  herself ;  and  then,  being,  in 
truth,  very  tired,  thought  she  would  lie  down 
trn  Samanthy's  bed  "just  five  minutes,  and  think 
it  over,"  before  going  downstairs.  She  was  only 
roused  by  Hiram's  appearance  with  a  tray  of 


GEMINI.  97 

supper  for  his  sister.  The  room  was  almost 
dark :  she  started  up  guiltily. 

"  Oh  dear,  I  'm  afraid  I  Ve  been  asleep  !  Why 
didn't  you  wake  me,  Samanthy  ?  I  believe  you 
have  been  napping  in  your  chair.  What  a  selfish 
girl  I  am  !  " 

She  flew  downstairs,  rubbing  her  eyes,  and 
found  the  pies  all  put  away,  the  cooking  dishes 
washed,  the  tea-table  spread,  the  cream  skimmed, 
wood  brought  in,  the  kettle  boiling  over  a  good 
fire,  and  the  lamp  lit.  Penny  sat  leisurely  in  the 
rocking-chair,  petting  the  cat. 

"O  Pen!"  cried  Lally,  "how  mean  of  me  to 
let  you  do  it  all!" 

"  Don't  reproach  yourself,"  laughed  her  sister. 
"  What  do  you  think  ?  Hiram  insisted  I  looked 
tired,  and  he  just  put  me  here,  an  hour  ago,  with 
the  cat  in  my  lap  ;  slipped  Samanthy's  old  shawl 
round  my  waist,  and  tied  it  behind  the  chair,  see  ! 
and  did  every  thing  himself,  just  as  nicely  as  a  girl ! 
With  your  apron  on  too,  and  I  laughing  till  the 
tears  ran  down  my  cheeks.  Just  look,  Lally ! 


98  GEMINI. 

he's  put  on  those  old  pie-plates,  instead  of  the 
tea-plates  !  There  are  no  two  alike :  but  don't 
say  a  word  to  him  ;  it  might  hurt  his  feelings." 

"  Hiram  is  as  good  as  gold,"  cried  Lally,  look 
ing  around  with  much  satisfaction  ;  "  but,  all  the 
same,  Pen,  he  wouldn't  have  done  all  this  for  me, 
and  you  know  it.  Now  do  let  me  untie  you, 
and  then  I  '11  call  father,  while  you  read  aunty's 
letter." 

While  she  was  gone,  Hiram  came  downstairs, 
and  stood  a  moment  at  the  foot,  watching  Pen, 
as  she  leaned  back  in  the  old  black  chair,  smiling 
over  the  letter,  and  stroking  Kitty  with  her  idle 
hand.  She  looked  up  presently,  and  said,  — 

"Ah,  Hiram  !  I  'm  untied  you  see  :  you  can't 
tyrannize  over  me  any  more.  But,  really  and 
truly,  I  was  almost  tired  out ;  and  now,  thanks  to 
you,  I  feel  quite  fresh  again.  It  was  very  good 
of  you  to  do  so  much." 

/-^_"  No  great  of  goodness,  as  I  see,"  he  responded 
awkwardly,  turning  away  from  the  sweet  up 
lifted  face,  just  because  it  was  such  a  joy  to  him 


GEMINI.  99 

to  look  at  it.  "  I  don't  know  as  there's  any  thin' 
I  like  better  than  helpin'  you  —  and  Lally,"  he 
added,  passing  into  the  back-room,  where  he 
stood  combing  and  stroking  his  bushy  hair, 
before  the  little  glass  that  hung  over  the  wash- 
bench,  until  the  Elder  and  Lally  came  into  the 
kitchen,  and  the  four  sat  down  together  to  their 
cosy  supper.  Quiet,  peaceful  weeks  followed ; 
Aunt  Virginia's  frequent  letters,  and,  now  and 
then,  one  from  Clayton,  and  the  replying  to  these, 
—  made  pleasant  interruptions  in  the  monot 
ony  of  the  sisters'  lives.  But  February  brought 
something  more  interesting  still,  —  a  valentine 
for  Lally  alone  (the  letters  were'  to  both),  of 
evidently  original  verse,  and  unmistakably  in 
Clayton's  writing.  Such  a  thing  had  never  been 
seen  in  Beebury,  or  even  at  school  in  East  Green 
ville.  Valentines  were  not  unusual ;  but  their 
contents  had  always  been  unblushingly  chosen 
from  the  school-reader,  or  the  "  Language  of 
Flowers,"  or  "  Friendship's  Offering."  Such 
hackneyed  lines  as  — 


100  GEMINI. 

"  The  rose  is  red, 

The  violet 's  blue, 
Carnation  's  sweet, 
And  so  are  you," 

being  not  unfrequently  adopted  to  convey  a  hint 
of  the  sender's  preference  ;  any  lack  of  invention 
being  atoned  for  by  the  elegant  elaboration  of 
the  lace-paper  on  which  it  was  written,  sprinkled 
with  plenty  of  gilt  Cupids,  bleeding  or  burning 
hearts,  roses,  doves,  and  suggestive  churches  and 
altars.  But  here  was  "  real  new  poetry,"  the  sis 
ters  agreed.  "And  so  appropriate!"  cried  Pen  ; 
and  "  so  loving,"  thought  blushing  Lally,  whom 
nothing  would  induce  to  show  her  treasure  to 
any  but  her  "sister,  though  she  allowed  her  to 
read  it  to  Samanthy,  when  she,  Lally,  was  not 
present.  Comment  from  that  keen  tongue  she 
felt  she  could  not  bear.  This  wonderful  com 
position,  which  cost  the  author  half  an  hour  of 
scowling  and  scribbling,  and  gave  poor  Lally 
clays  of  waking  happiness,  to  say  nothing  of  rosy 
dreams,  was  as  follows  :  — 


GEMINI.  10 1 


"  Oft  in  the  watches  of  the  night, 
When  the  world  sleeps  and  stars  are  bright, 
I  seem  to  climb  again  the  height 
I  climbed  with  you  five  months  ago. 

"Again  we  stand  on  that  rough  crest, 

Where  stormy  winds  can  never  rest, 

Breathe  in  the  air  with  keenest  zest, 

And  feel  our  cheeks  are  all  aglow. 

"Again  we  spring  from  rock  to  rock, 
Again  defy  the  wind's  rude  shock, 
Again  my  arm  I  closely  lock 

With  yours,  my  bright-eyed  mountain  friend. 

"Again  in  song  our  voices  rise, 
Again  we  walk  'neath  starry  skies, 
And  then  I  wake  —  the  fancy  flies  ! 
Ah  !  why  must  happy  visions  end  ?  " 


Hardly  had  the  first  flush  of  this  event  cooled 
upon  the  innocent  cheeks  of  our  girls,  when  a 
letter  from  Aunt  Virginia  arrived,  containing  an 
urgent  invitation  to  one  of  her  darling  nieces  to 
spend  the  spring  months  with  her.  She  "could 
not  decide  which  ;  that  must  depend  upon  their 
father's  wishes  : "  but,  whichever  came  this  time, 
she  should  expect  the  other  next  year.  It  was 


102  GEMINI. 

"hard  not  to  insist  upon  both  now,  but  that 
would  leave  the  dear  old  homestead  too  desolate." 
The  generous  strife  that  ensued  may  be  easily 
imagined  ;  also  the  Elder's  utter  incapacity  to 
decide  such  a  question.  Samanthy  argued  that 
priority  of  age,  however  brief,  ought  to  give 
Penserosa  the  preference  ;  a  theory  indignantly 
scouted  by  Pen  herself,  and  eloquently 'supported 
by  her  sister.  Hiram,  divided  between  agony  at 
the  thought  of  parting  from  his  favorite,  and  fear 
lest  she  should  miss  an  honor  and  pleasure, 
gloomily  proposed  drawing  lots.  After  twenty- 
four  hours  of  the  nearest  approach  to  quarrelling 
that  had  ever  been  known  in  that  household,  the 
matter  was  decided  by  Doctor  Hopkins.  Lally 
had  been  sick  for  several  days  with  a  sore 
throat,  and,  though  much  better,  was  so  weak 
and  without  appetite  that  Samanthy  —  always 
fearful  lest  their  mother's  delicacy  of  constitu 
tion  should  be  inherited  —  sent  for  the  Doctor. 
He,  after  due  questioning  and  examination,  knit 
his  gray  eyebrows,  and  declared,  "  The  amount  of 


GEMINI. 


103 


it  is,  she  never  ought  to  have  been  born  in  New 
England !  Perpetual  warmth  and  sunshine,  out- 
of-door  life,  and  plenty  of  fun  and  change,  are 
what  you  'd  thrive  on  :  hey,  Miss  Mirth  ? "  Lally 
eagerly  nodded.  "  I  thought  so.  Now,  Miss 
Melancholy  here,  is  a  born  frost-flower ;  takes 
naturally  to  cold,  and  wind,  and  granite,  and  pine- 
trees  !  Never  dull,  'or  pining,  —  ready  for  work, 
always  cheerful  and  contented,  and  law-abiding. 
A  good  sample  of  Puritan  stock.  Isn't  that 
about  so,  Samanthy  ?  The  old  Doctor  knows  a 
thing  or  two,  if  he  is  getting  bald.  Now  my 
prescription  for  this  humming-bird  is,  that  she 
goes  to  make  a  visit  to  that  southern  aunt  of 
hers,  the  first  chance  she  gets,  and  the  sooner 
the  better,  as  far  as  appetite  and  rosy  cheeks  are 
concerned.  Hallo !  seems  to  me  they  're  red 
enough  all  of  a  sudden  !  Sister  been  telling 
me  something  ?  No,  she  hasn't.  Got  an  invi 
tation  ?  Good  !  See  that  you  go  then,  and  I  '11 
take  care  of  my  pretty  Pen  here,  never  you 
fear." 


104  GEMINI. 

So  it  was  settled,  and  the  dread  of  parting 
from  her  sister  was  now  the  only  shadow  on 
Allegra's  happiness.  The  question  of  wardrobe 
had  been  wisely  settled  by  Aunt  Virginia  in  her 
next  letter.  "  Don't  buy  or  make  over  any  thing 
in  the  way  of  dress  till  you  come.  The  shops 
here  are  far  prettier  and  cheaper  than  good 
Deacon  Sawyer 's,  and  I  shall  love  to  help  you." 

"  Now  that 's  where  she  shows  her  sense,"  de 
clared  Samanthy.  "  I  did  feel  beat  'bout  your 
clo'es,  Lally ;  for,  thinks  —  says  I,  how  do  we  know 
what  the  style  is  down  south  ;  and  though  I  don't 
never  want  you  to  set  too  much  store  by  your 
outward  adornin',  as  your  father  would  say,  still, 
I  don't  b'lieve  it's  nobody's  duty  to  look  redic'- 
lus :  an',  more  'n  that,  I  kinder  hated  to  rip  up 
them  best  gownds  o'  your  mother's,  nor  yet  to 

let  'Lecty  Sage   or  Sophrony  Elli't  tech   'em. 

• 
There 's  three  left,  you  know,  that  we  'greed  las' 

time  we  opened  the  trunk,  when  you  was  a-fixin' 
to  go  to  the  'Cademy,  we  'd  save  till  you  'd  fairly 
done  growin',  an'  I  guess  the  time  's  come  now 
to  use  'em." 


GEMINI.  105 

She  led  the  way  to  the  Elder's  bedroom, 
followed  by  the  girls,  who  felt  a  chill  come 
upon  their  happy  mood,  as  the  old  hair-trunk 
was  pulled  out  of  the  closet,  where  it  had 
stood  for  twenty-two  years,  —  with  "M.  B.  D.," 
in  brass  nails,  on  the  arched  top,  —  and  Samanthy 
reverently  unlocked  it,  and  disclosed  the  smoothly 
folded  garments  that  remained  of  the  wedding 
outfit  of  a  long-ago  happy  little  bride.  "  Deary- 
me,  to  think  they  should  be  a-goin'  back  where 
they  was  fust  made,"  she  ejaculated,  unfolding, 
first  a  black  silk,  and  then  a  pinkish  purple  one, 
with  a  raised,  zigzag  pattern,  in  white,  on  it ;  and 
lastly,  a  French  calico,  with  small,  bright  flowers, 
on  a  buff  ground.  "  Lor  !  how  well  I  remember 
the  fust  time  she  ever  come  into  meetin'  with 
this 'peach-blow'  gownd  ;  Mis'  Deacon  Sawyer 
said  flounces  was  so  worldly,  she  wondered  how 
your  father  could  allow  it.  Many 's  the  time 
I  've  run  round  from  mother's  to  wash  up  the 
tea-things  for  her,  when  I  know'd  she  had  comp- 
'ny,  for  fear  she  'd  spile  it:  she  was  allers  so  easy 


106  GEMINI. 

and  careless.  Now,  gals," — coming  suddenly  out 
of  her  unusually  pensive  mood,  as  she  saw  Pen's 
hands  tremble  and  Lally's  eyes  fill,  —  "now  you 
must  divide ;  an'  my  advice  is,  that  Penny  keeps 
the  black  one,  'cause  she's  more  quiet  an'  womanly- 
like  ;  an',  Lally,  you  have  the  'peach-blow'  made 
over,  'cordin'  to  your  aunt's  idees,  an'  take  this 
caliker  to  fix  inter  a  kind  of  a  loose  mornin'- 
gown,  with  a  cord  an'  tossle,  an'  skirt  open  in 
front,  like  the  one  she  had  here  las'  summer. 
Made  that  way,  you  could  either  on  you  wear  it, 
bein'  the  same  height,  accordin'  to  which  was 
a-visitin'."  The  girls  agreed,  though  Pen  at  first 
proposed  that  her  sister  should  have  all  three, 
but  this  Lally  indignantly  refused.  And  now 
the  hours  fled  all  too  fast,  even  for  the  eager 
young  fledgling,  longing  to  spread  her  wings  ; 
and,  in  the  latter  part  of  February,  under  the  care 
of  her  old  teacher,  Mr.  Coffin,  who  was  going 
sotrth  with  an  invalid  daughter,  our  pretty  Allegra 
bade  good-by  with  many  tears,  and  set  out  for 
her  mother's  home. 


GEMINI.  107 


CHAPTER    IX. 

.  "Of  all  tales  'tis  the  saddest,  —  and  more  sad 

Because  it  makes  us  smile." 

BYRON. 

T  TNTIL  after  the  stage  was  out  of  sight, 
Penserosa  had  never  fairly  faced  the 
question,  what  life  would  be  without  her  sister. 
What  she  could  do  to  help  Lally  get  ready, 
what  Lally  would  see  and  enjoy,  had  till  now 
filled  heart  and  hands ;  and  every  thought  of 

self  was  rigorously  excluded.     But  now  ?     Well, 

• 

now  she  must  not  let  those  who  loved  her  sus 
pect  what  blackness  of  darkness  seemed  to  rise 
before  her ;  she  must  work  with  Samanthy, 
ride  with  her  father,  chat  with  Hiram,  call  on 
the  Sawyer  girls,  finish  that  rag  mat,  and  keep 
her  tears  and  sobs  till  she  was  alone  at  night, 
and  could  give  way  freely,  and,  as  she  thought, 


108  GEMINI. 

unsuspected,  her  face  buried  in  Lally's  pillow, 
her  hands  clasping  Lally's  picture.  But  panel 
partitions  transmit  sounds  easily,  especially  to 
loving  ears  ;  and  it  was  really  wonderful  how 
many  times  that  spring  Hiram  had  "  business 
over  to  the  Holler,  an'  thought  perhaps  Penny 
would  like  to  go  over  an'  see  Clary  Flanders," 
or  the  horse  needed  shoeing,  and  "  no  one  could 
do  it  as  well  as  Joe  Grimes  in  Minkville ;  an' 
mebbe  she  'd  feel  like  doin'  a  little  shoppin' 
there,"  or  he  "had  an  arrant  in  Coneford,  an' 
'twas  jes'  as  handy  to  go  in  the  sleigh  as  the 
stage."  Dr.  Hopkins,  too,  kept  his  word,  and 
often  reminded  his  pleasant  wife  to  send  for 
Pen  to  spend  an  afternoon  and  evening,  when 
some  new  book  was  sure  to  be  lent  which 
cheered  the  rest  of  the  week.  Nor  was  Sa- 
manthy  blind.  "  Don't  tell  me  that  twins  isn't 
different,"  she  would  often  say  when  alone,  ad 
dressing,  as  was  her  wont,  some  imaginary  and 
obstinate  familiar ;  "  that  child  's  lost  a  pound 
a  week,  an'  nothin'  but  the  letters  keeps  her 


GEMINI.  109 

along."  Happily  those  letters  came  often,  and 
were  so  bubbling  over  with  life  and  gossip  that 
Pen  was  visibly  brightened  for  days  after  their 
coming.  "Use  and  wont"  were  her  friends, 
too,  as  they  are  to  us  all ;  and  no  duty  was 
ever  unfulfilled,  no  matter  how  hard  it  was  to 
miss  her  merry  sister's  help  or  hindrance  therein. 
The  big  bundle  of  "Messengers"  and  "Well- 
Springs  "  which  arrived  on  Fridays,  was  duly 
opened,  and  each  copy  legibly  marked  with  its 
subscriber's  name,  that  there  might  be  no  mis 
take  in  the  Sunday  distribution  in  the  pews  ; 
the  Elder's  sermon  was  clearly  copied  ;  the  mag 
azine  read  aloud  to  Samanthy  and  Hiram ;  the 
week's  mending  all  finished  Saturday  night ;  and 
her  share  of  household  work  faithfully  per 
formed  :  but  for  all  that,  the  days  were  weary  ; 
and  though,  as  they  passed,  pain  itself  became 
a  habit,  and  therefore  endurable,  she  often 
thought,  —  "If  I  only  had  some  entirely  new 
work,  I  could  bear  it  better."  One  dismal 
afternoon  in  March,  she  went  with  Hiram 


1 10  GEMINI. 

to  "the  store,"  and,  having  bought  her  pins 
and  yarn,  was  quietly  waiting  for  him  to  finish 
his  "  trade "  in  the  rear  room,  where  the  boots 
and  shoes  were  kept,  when  the  remarks  of  the 
half-dozen  loungers  around  the  rusty  stove 
caught  her  ear.  "  Broke  down  this  mornin'  ; 
had  ter  dismiss  the  scholars."  "  'Most  fainted 
away,  they  say."  "Doctor  says  she's  in  for 
a  fever,  an'  no  mistake."  "  Dretful  pity ! 
smartest  teacher  we  've  had,  by  a  long  chalk." 
"Who'll  they  git  now?"  "That's  the  ques 
tion  ;  all  the  likely  girls  'ngaged  long  ago." 
"'Lecty's  too  old,  I  s'pose?"  "Too  'tarnal 
cross,  you  'd  better  say !  Strange  neither  o' 
the  Elder's  gals  hain't  never"  —  "Hush,  can't 
ye  ? "  and  then  Hiram  came  back,  and  went 
out  to  the  sleigh  with  her.  She  dared  not 
yet  repeat  to  him  what  she  had  heard ;  but 
she  lay  awake  long  that  night  thinking  it  over. 
Next  morning  came  a  letter  from  Lally  which 
fully  decided  her. 


GEMINI.  1 1 1 

"  You  can't  think,  Pen  dear,  what  a  difference 
there  is  about  dress  here.  With  Aunt  Virginia's 
help,  I  've  made  my  green  and  white  plaid  all  over  ; 
for,  as  soon  as  I  saw  other  girls,  I  knew  I  could 
never  wear  it  as  it  was ;  and  yet  how  fine  we  thought 
it  when  we  made  it  last  Fall  !  I  shall  send  you  the 
pattern,  so  you  can  alter  yours.  And  what  do  you 
think  ?  Aunt  Virginia  says  that  silk  of  poor  mother's 
is  too  '  fearfully  old-timey  '  for  me  to  wear,  and  I  had 
better  have  it  dyed  black,  to  wear  under  a  black 
barege,  which  she  wants  me  to  have  as  soon  as 
the  warm  weather  comes.  She  isn't  willing  I  should 
use  it  in  any  other  way ;  and,  though  it  seems  a  pity 
that  what  Samanthy  says  mamma  was  so  fond  of 
shouldn't  be  good  enough  for  me,  yet  I  know  she 
would  want  me  to  be  guided  by  Aunty.  Don't  you 
think  so?  I  hope  you  won't  be  shocked  to  hear  that 
I  Ve  spent  all  my  money.  I  found  I  really  must  have 
a  new  bonnet  and  veil  and  gloves  and  boots  and 
collars.  Aunty  has  given  me  a  real  beauty  of  a  sun 
shade,  and  I  've  carried  it  several  times  already  ;  for 
the  weather  here  is  like  our  May,  and  the  grass  is 
lovely  and  green,  and  there  is  so  much  English  ivy 
on  the  houses  and  garden  walls,  such  high  box 
hedges  and  magnolia  trees,  all  of  which  are  green 
through  the  winter,  that  I  can  hardly  believe  what 
you  tell  me  of  your  tipping  over  with  Hiram  in  that 
big  snow-drift.  Do  give  my  love  to  everybody.  It 
seems  a  year  since  I  saw  you,  and  I  wish  every  hour 


112  GEMINI. 


that  you  were  here.  Aunt  Virginia  is  just  as  kind  as 
ever ;  and  the  black  people  are  so  fond  of  me,  Saman- 
thy  would  be  afraid  I  should  be  spoiled  with  flattery, 
and  being  waited  on,  and  petted.  It 's  '  honey-sugar,' 
and  '  pretty  missy,'  and  '  bless  your  bright  eyes,'  and 
'  let  me  get  it  for  you,'  from  morning  till  night. 
You  know  how  dreadful  it  always  seemed  to  us  to 
have  slaves  ;  but  here  it  is  very  different,  and  I  'm 
sure  all  of  Aunty's  are  very  happy,  and  altogether  too 
lazy  and  childish  to  take  care  of  themselves.  Don't 
read  this  to  Hiram  or  Dr.  Hopkins,  unless  you  want 
an  explosion :  they  are  such  fierce  abolitionists.  You 
know  we  used  to  think  some  of  the  men  that  we 
heard  talking  politics  at  the  Deacon's  store  were  quite 
unreasonable,  and  got  excited  over  the  newspapers, 
only  because  Beebury  was  so  dull,  and  there  was 
nothing  else  to  talk  about ;  but  really,  Penny,  people 
here  get  quite  as  hot  and  far  more  bitter ;  and  you 
would  almost  suppose,  if  it  wasn't  too  dreadful  to 
happen,  that  they  would  like  to  fight  against  the 
North.  And  that  reminds  me  to  tell  you  there  is 
a  Navy  Yard  near  here,  a  very  interesting  place,  en 
tirely  different  from  any  thing  you  ever  saw ;  and 
kept  so  neat,  it  would  delight  Samanthy's  heart, 
and  all  by  men  too,  tell  her.  Aunt  Virginia  knows 
the  Commodore's  family  quite  well  ;  and  we  are  in 
vited  to  take  tea  there  to-morrow !  Isn't  that  fully 
as  delightful  as  any  thing  in  '  Northanger  Abbey'? 
And,  Pen,  do  you  remember  a  picture  of  crocuses 


GEMINI.  113 

Mrs.  Coffin  had?  Well,  I  saw  a  whole  bed  of  them 
in  bloom  the  day  I  came  here,  yellow  and  purple  and 
white  ;  and,  better  than  that,  Aunty  brought  home 
from  market  a  big  bunch  of  may-flowers  (she  calls  it 
trailing  arbutus)  ;  and  it  fairly  made  me  cry  a  little, 
it  smelled  so  like  home.  I  shall  not  need  that  barege 
for  a  month,  so  don't  trouble  father  about  the  money 
yet."  .  .  . 

Heartily  as  Pen  sympathized  in  her  sister's 
evident  happiness,  her  face  was  sober  as  she 
folded  up  the  letter.  She  knew  that  her  father 
could  ill  spare  what  he  had  already  given  Lally, 
and  that  he  had  not  expected  to  send  her  any 
more,  until  her  return  required  it.  Mrs.  Lee 
had  defrayed  the  expenses  of  the  journey  South, 
saying,  "as  a  slight  return  for  your  hospitality  of 
last  summer  to  my  dear  boy  and  myself,  you 
must  allow  me  to  enclose  Lalla's  fare  hither." 
Yet  Pen  was  resolved  her  sister  should  look  as 
nice  as  those  "other  girls."  She  knew  how 
Lally  would  wish  to  compare  well  with  them, 
when  Clayton  came  home  for  the  "  Easter  holi 
days,"  a  new  word  in  Beebury  a  year  ago,  but 


1 14  GEMINI. 

quite  familiar  to  our  girls  from  their  aunt's  lips; 
and  so  "  I  must  and  will  take  the  school "  was 
the  resolve  that  flushed  Pen's  gentle  face,  as  she 
knocked  at  Dr.  Hopkins's  office-door.  When  she 
came  out,  an  hour  later,  her  eyes  were  bright 
with  hope  and  triumph,  and  in  her  hand  was  a 
note  of  recommendation  to  the  other  members 
of  the  school  committee. 

"What  could  I  do,  my  dear?"  said  the  Doctor 
to  his  wife,  when  she  reproached  him,  later,  for 
"encouraging  Penny  Mason  to  take  that  noisy 
school,  when  she  seems  unusually  delicate  this 
spring,  and  has  that  wistful  look  in  her  eyes  like 
her  poor  mother." 

"  What  could  I  do,  Persis,  when  she  owned 
she  was  pining  for  Lally,  and  said  that  nothing 
but  work  and  a  new  scene  would  help  her?  I 
believe  her  too.  Penny  Mason 's  not  made  of 
the  same  stuff  as  her  mother,  if  she  has  the  same 
coaxing,  brown  eyes  :  she  's  real  New  England 
grit,  and  work  will  do  her  good.  She  's  a  grand 
girl,  and,  for  all  her  quiet  voice  and  little  inno- 


GEMINI.  n^ 

cent  face,  I  'm  not  afraid  that  she  will  not  keep 
the  school  in  order.  I  shall  watch  her,  though  ; 
and  I  shall  get  Mrs.  Buttrick  to  take  her  to 
board.  She  '11  keep  her  as  comfortable  as  Sa- 
manthy  would  :  and  Pen  shall  come  home  every 
Saturday  and  Sunday,  we  can  trust  Hiram  for 
that.  Why,  Persis,  those  girls  have  never  been 
separated  before,  in  the  whole  nineteen  years  of 
their  lives,  not  even  for  a  day :  no  wonder  she 
feels  lost  without  Lally  !  " 

"Does  Lally  feel  lost  too?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Hopkins,  quietly  picking  a  thread  from  her  hus 
band's  sleeve. 

"Lally?     Humph,  that's  another  matter." 

By  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  Friday,  all 
was  settled,  and  Pen  was  to  assume  her  new  dig 
nities  on  Monday.  She  had  met  with  less  diffi 
culty  and  opposition  than  she  had  feared.  The 
other  committee-men  had  gladly  followed  the 
lead  of  their  chairman ;  the  Elder,  who  had 
taught  much  in  his  youth,  was  startled  by  find- 


Il6  GEMINI. 

ing  he  had  a  child  old  enough  to  do  likewise,  but 
remarked,  "  It  is  a  noble  work,  my  daughter,  and 
I  am  glad  that  you  feel  yourself  moved,  and 
competent  to  enter  upon  it.  The  house  will 
seem  less  bright  without  my  little  girls,  but  it  is 
not  for  me  to  think  of  that,  if  they  are  useful 
elsewhere ;  "  and  stooping,  with  his  usual  gentle, 
far-away  smile,  he  kissed  her  on  her  forehead. 
Samanthy  was  more  surprised,  and  less  trac 
table  ;  but  soon,  seeing  that  the  girl's  heart  was 
in  the  plan,  she  submitted,  determining,  like  the 
Doctor,  to  watch,  and  to  interfere  if  she  saw  her 
child  looking  worn.  The  parents  in  the  "  But- 
trick  deestrick"  were  secretly  elated  by  their 
good  fortune  ;  for,  although  they  might  not  have 
owned  it,  they  knew  that  the  twins  were  the  best 
educated  and  most  lady-like  girls  in  town.  Even 
the  scholars  were  not  sorry  to  be  re-folded  ;  for 
the  snow,  though  still  very  deep,  had  become  so 
disintegrated  and  sand-like,  from  many  thawings 
and  freezings,  so  worn  into  "cradle-holes"  and 
"  thank-ye-ma'ams,"  that  "  'twasn't  worth  a  cent 


GEMINI.  1 1 7 

for  snow-ballin'  nor  sleighin',  nor  coastin'  neither ; 
an'  skatin'  's  over  long  ago."  Thus  it  befell  Pen- 
serosa  that  the  only  lion  in  her  way  was  the  one 
she  had  least  feared,  —  Hiram  himself.  When  he 
first  heard  of  her  plans,  he  was  roused  into  an 
earnestness  and  eloquence  of  opposition  of  which 
Pen  had  not  supposed  him  capable  ;  but  when  he 
found  that  he  could  move  her  resolution  by  no 
fears  of  her  father's  loneliness,  her  sister's  dis 
approval,  her  own  inexperience,  and  the  rough 
material  of  the  school,  he  subsided  into  a 
gloomy  silence  on  this,  and  all  subjects,  and,  as 
Samanthy  picturesquely  declared,  "  never  opened 
his  head  without  he  hed  ter,  slighted  his  vittles, 
talked  in  his  sleep,  an'  went  scowlin'  round  about 
his  chores,  as  ef  he  hed  a  grutch  agin'  all  crea 
tion.  Ef  'twas  the  fall  of  the  year,  I  should  make 
sure  he  was  fixin'  for  a  fever,"  she  muttered  one 
evening,  as  he  went  out  to  milk,  "but  ez  it  ain't, 
I  b'lieve  he's  got  suthin'  on  his  mind,  an"  he 
won't  tell  a  livin'  bein',  'less  'tis  our  Penny. 
Mebbe  ef  he  could  git  her  by  herself,  he'd 
kinder  free  his  mind." 


1 1 8  GEMINI. 

"  Penny,"  she  called  aloud,  giving  her  dish 
cloth  a  final  decisive  squeeze  and  fling,  "  I  '11  put 
up  them  custard-cups,  ef  you'll  jest  run  out  to 
the  barn,  and  ask  Hiram  ef  he  can't  scare  up 
half-a-dozen  more  aigs  for  me  before  he  brings 
in  the  milk :  I  shall  want  a  lot  for  cookin'  to- 
morrer."  Pen  gladly  obeyed,  for  she  had  been 
wishing  for  a  talk  with  Hiram,  but,  half  guessing 
his  trouble,  had  been  too  shy  to  make  an  oppor 
tunity.  She  knew  that  no  one  could  influence 
him  as  she  could,  and  that  the  barn,  at  milking- 
time,  was  the  place  where  confidence  and  con 
fession  would  be  most  easy.  From  their  earliest 
childhood,  she  and  Lally  had  sought  Hiram 
there  and  then,  when  they  had  a  favor  to  ask 
or  a  plan  to  suggest.  So  significant  were  their 
footsteps  at  this  hour,  that  he  would  often 
call  out  before  they  were  in  sight,  "  No,  gals, 
t'aint  no  use  to-night :  I  reelly  am  too  busy,"  or, 
"  Yes,  Lally,  run  and  git  on  your  best  ribbins, 
and  we  '11  go  to  the  sing." 

Not  so  now ;  for,  well  as  he  heard  Pen's  light 


GEMINI.  119 

stepping  on  the  wood-shed  planks,  long  before 
she  lifted  the  wooden  latch  of  the  barn-door,  he 
did  not  speak  or  turn,  though  the  milk  hissed 
faster  into  the  pail,  and  his  brown  cheeks  glowed 
darker  in  the  shadow.  She  pulled  a  handful  of 
clover  as  she  passed  the  mow,  and  stood  feeding 
the  cow  he  was  milking,  until  he  said,  — 

"  Well,  Penny  ?  " 

"  Samanthy  wants  a  few  eggs,  if  you  can  find 
them." 

"  All  right  ;  enny  thin'  else  ?  " 

"  That 's  all  she  said,  but  I,"  breaking  into 
school-girl  phrase  in  her  embarrassment  —  "  O 
Hiram,  I  never  thought  you  'd  be  so  mean !  " 

In  her  gentleness,  she  repented  of  the  hard 
word  as  soon  as  she  had  said  it,  and  looked  pen 
itently  at  him,  ready  to  take  it  back.  To  her 
surprise,  he  replied,  —  • 

"  I  can't  se5m  to  help  it,  Penny.  I  know  it 's 
mean ;  but  the  more  I  think  on't,  the  worse  'tis. 
Ef  'twas  enny  one  but  Bee/xWen  Buttrick,  I  c'd 
stan'  it  better ;  but  you  know  I  allers  did  hate  to 
hev  him  mterferin'." 


120  GEMINI. 

Pen  started  back,  greatly  to  the  disappoint 
ment  of  the  little  Alderney,  who  stretched  vainly 
and  unheeded  for  the  clover  in  her  mistress's 
fallen  hand.  The  girl  was  deeply  mortified.  He 
had  not  been  thinking  about  her  going,  after  all. 
It  was  some  affair  of  his  own. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  Hiram/'  she  said  at 
last,  in  a  sort  of  distant  voice. 

"Naterally  not,"  he  returned.  "I  didn't  s'pose 
you  would ;  not  bein'  mean  and  jealous-tempered 
yourself,  an'  havin'  no  occasion,  nor  wouldn't  ef 
you  had :  but  you  've  heard  of  dogs  in  man 
gers,  an'  may  kind-of  imagine  how  cross-grained 
an'  cantankerous  they  feel.  An'  now  you  know 
what  ails  me." 

She  did  not  speak :  her  thoughts  were  whirling 
too  near  the  truth  now.  He  set  his  full  pail 
away,  took  another,  and  moved  his  stool  to  the 
next  cow  before  he  spoke  again. 

"  Of  course  I  ain't  enny  such  fool  as  to  s'pose 
you  '11  allers  stay  to  home  ;  of  course  I  know  it 
ain't  for  me  to  speak  up  'bout  enny  of  your  plans 


GEMINI.  121 

an'  doin's,  nor  expect  you  to  care  whether  folks 
miss  you  or  not ;  of  course  I  know  there  is 
diff'runces  an'  berriers,  ef  'tis  a  free  country, 
an'  that  feelin's  ain't  much  'count,  when  there 
ain't  no  eddication ;  an'  thet  's  jest  where  it 
hurts,  you  see.  Bee///<?ven  he's  got  good  no 
tions  'bout  dressin'  an'  behavin',  an'  he 's  fond  of 
books,  an'  I  'm  jest  mean  enough,  as  you  say,  to 
begrutch  it  to  him,  your  bein'  to  his  house,  an' 
he  seein'  you  every  day,  an'  doin'  your  arrants, 
an'  bringin'  your  letters,  an'  all !  Now  you  know, 
Penny,  an'  you  can't  despise  it  more  'n  I  do 
myself." 

A  long  pause,  broken  only  by  the  foaming  of 
the  milk,  and  the  soft  champing  of  the  quiet 
cows.  Hiram  kept  his  hot  face  turned  away; 
Pen  leaned  against  the  use-smoothed,  stanchion 
beam,  twisting  long  spears  of  herd-grass  into  a 
sort  of  wreath,  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  feeling  life 
a  puzzle  for  the  first  time.  How  could  she  say 
enough,  and  not  too  much  ?  At  last  the  second 
pail  was  full,  and  Hiram  rose  silently,  and  took 


1 22  GEMINI. 

both  to  go  into  the  house,  but  Pen  bethought 
herself. 

"  O  Hiram,  the  eggs,  you  know !  can't  7  take 
in  the  pails  ?  " 

He  fairly  laughed  aloud,  and  looking  into  her 
sweet,  flushed  face,  for  the  first  time  in  many 
days,  drew  his  breath  hard,  and  said  gently,  — 

"No,  you  dear,  little,  pitiful  soul!  As  kind- 
an'  forgivin'  as  you  be,  there 's  some  things  you 
cant  do,  Penny." 

"  May  I  help  hunt  eggs,  then  ? " 

"  Sartin'  you  may,  an'  welcome."  Ten  minutes 
of  climbing  and  scrambling  followed,  effectually 
preventing  talk  ;  but,  in  the  tenderness  of  her 
heart,  Pen  let  him  help  her  up  and  down  more 
than  usual,  and,  as  he  held  her  hand  to  steady 
her  on  the  last  ladder,  she  said, — 

"You  needn't  be  troubled  about  Beethoven 
Buttrick.  He  thinks  too  much  of  Clary  Flan 
ders  ;  and,  even  if  he  didn't,  it  wouldn't  make  any 
difference." 

This     somewhat     obscure     statement     made 


GEMINI.  123 

Hiram's  eyes  flash  gratefully,  but  he  only 
said,  "  Thank  you,  Penny,"  and  gave  her  his 
hatful  of  eggs,  while  he  took  up  the  milk- 
pails.  Samanthy  gave  the  two  a  keen  glance 
as  they  entered  the  kitchen,  and  remarked  con 
fidentially  to  her  familiar,  as  she  strained  the 
milk,  "I  guess  ef  I  leave  a  turnover  or  so 
round,  he  '11  find  appetite  enough  to  eat  'em 
to-night." 


1 24  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER    X. 

"They  also  serve,  who  only  stand  and  wait."  — MILTON. 

LETTER   FROM   PEN   TO   LALLY. 

"BEEBURY,  April  7,  1861. 

"DEAR  LALLY,  —  Your  letter  came  last  night,  and 
didn't  frighten  me  a  bit.  I  knew  you  'd  be  shocked  at 
first,  but  if  you  could  see  how  happy  I  am,  how  well 
the  children  behave,  and  what  an  appetite  I  have  for 
Mrs.  Buttrick's  good  things,  you  would  be  perfectly 
satisfied.  I  've  been  here  three  weeks  now.  Hiram 
drives  over,  and  takes  me  home,  every  Friday  night, 
and  brings  me  back  after  second  meeting,  Sunday 
afternoon.  You  '11  hardly  believe  it,  but  Samanthy 
kissed  me  of  her  own  accord  each  time,  and  said  I 
had  really  'picked  up  '  by  the  change.  As  to  teach 
ing,  I  was  dreadfully  afraid  at  first ;  but  I  'm  sure  I 
didn't  show  it,  and  the  only  one  I  had  any  real 
trouble  with  was  '  P'laski '  (Pulaski)  Dewey,  who 
is  almost  as  old  as  I  am,  and  twice  as  big.  He  was 
quite  rebellious  and  saucy  for  several  days,  and  that 
.of  course  encouraged  the  smaller  ones  in  mischief ; 


GEMINI.  125 

but  one  night,  when  I  was  locking  up  the  school- 
house,  he  threw  a  hard  snowball,  only  meaning  to 
hit  the  door,  and  make  me  jump ;  but  it  glanced  and 
struck  my  chin,  and  made  it  bleed  the  least  little  bit. 
I  sat  down  on  the  step  a  moment,  more  grieved  and 
frightened  than  hurt,  and  he  was  by  me  at  once, 
perfectly  broken  down  with  shame  and  penitence  ; 
and  we  had  a  long  talk,  and  both  came  near  crying, 
and  he  's  been  my  fast  friend  ever  since,  almost  what 
Hiram  calls  'sweet  on  me,'  but  don't  tell  any  one  I 
said  so.  All  the  other  scholars  follow  his  lead,  and  I 
have  easy  times  now,  and  can  really  see  that  they 
make  some  progress.  Next  Sunday,  Father  's  going 
to  hold  the  '  early  candle-light '  prayer-meeting  at 
this  school-house  ;  so  he  '11  drive  me  over,  instead  of 
Hiram,  and  Mrs.  Buttrick  has  invited  him  to  tea.  O 
Lally,  she  is  so  kind  to  me  !  You  'd  suppose  I  was 
company,  and  had  done  her  the  greatest  favor  in 
coming;  instead  of  being  a  boarder.  She  says,  '  For 
all  this  mounting  is  a  consid'able  sightly  place,  it's 
orfle  lonesome  to  live  here,  with  no  houses  near,  and 
nothin'  to  listen  to,  all  day  long,  but  the  lambs 
a-blarin'  an'  the  crows  a-cawin'  up  in  the  parsters  ; 
an'  at  night  there 's  owls  a-cahootin',  an'  crickets  and 
frogs,  and  tree-toads  enough  to  drive  a  body  wild.  In 
winter  it 's  wuss,  for  nothin'  bigger  'n  a  wood-sled  can 
go  by,  from  Thanksgivin'  till  sap-time  an'  after,  the 
roads  is  so  choked  up  with  driffs,  an'  ef  it  worn't  for 
the  cats,'  (she  keeps  six)  '  an'  him,  an'  the  boys 


126  GEMINI. 

comin'  home  nights,  I  should  go  ravin'  distracted.' 
And  indeed,  Lally,  she  does  talk  as  steadily  as  if  she 
should  never  have  another  chance,  and  pets  me 
almost  as  much  as  Aunt  Virginia  and  the  slaves  do 
you.  I  am  writing  at  the  school-house,  because  I 
can't  get  an  hour  to  myself  at  the  house  without  dis 
appointing  her.  I  am  glad  the  money  reached  you 
safely,  and  that  you  had  such  a  lovely  time  at  the 
Navy  Yard.  That  Commodore  must  be  almost  a's 
stately  as  General  Tilney ;  and  I  am  sure  your  adven 
tures  in  Norfolk  are  quite  as  interesting  to  read,  as 
Catherine's  at  Bath  and  Northanger  Abbey.  By 
this  time,  Clayton  is  with  you,  and  you  are  gayer 
than  ever.  What  you  say  of  the  fierceness  of  politics 
at  the  South  I  can  quite  believe  ;  for  Mr.  Buttrick 
and  Beethoven  really  make  my  blood  run  cold,  with 
their  indignation  over  the  news  in  the  weekly  paper  ; 
so  different  from  father  and  Hiram.  Mrs.  Buttrick 
says  '  men-folks  allers  do  spout  'bout  the  actions 
down  South,'  and  is  not  at  all  concerned,  but  some 
times  I  really  fear  there  is  trouble  coming." 

Before  Penserosa  wrote  again,  the  war-cloud 
had  burst,  Sumter  had  fallen,  and  a  tidal  wave 
of  fierce  excitement  flowed  over  the  entire 
country.  Clayton  had  joined  the  Southern 
army,  his  mother  was  prostrated  by  a  nervous 


GEMINI.  1 27 

fever,  Beethoven  Buttrick  and  Pulaski  Dewey, 
and  many  other  brave  New  Hampshire  boys, 
were  marching  southward  at  Lincoln's  call,  and 
the  sisters  were  separated,  as.  by  a  line  of  fire. 

"  I  could  not  leave  Aunt  Virginia  now,  even  if  you 
bade  me,  and  the  way  was  clear,  and  I  had  the 
money  to  go,"  Lally  wrote  to  her  father,  in  the  only 
letter  that  reached  home  in  many  weeks.  "  She  is 
completely  broken  down  by  Clayton's  going  into  the 
army  •  can  neither  eat  nor  sleep,  and  is  so  changed 
I  sometimes  think  you  would  not  know  her.  She 
had  never  really  believed  there  would  be  war;  and, 
for  fear  of  distressing  her,  Clayton  had  kept  all  his 
plans  a  secret,  till  the  very  last,  and  then  the  shock 
was  too  much.  He  came  in,  that  terrible  night  of 
the  burning  of  the  Gosport  Navy  Yard,  all  haste  and 
excitement,  looking  so  eager  and  handsome  in  his 
uniform,  and  told  us  he  was  under  marching  orders, 
and  must  go  at  once.  I  shall  never  forget  those 
hours.  The  streets  were  crowded,  people  were 
shouting  and  rushing  about,  the  sky  all  red,  and  the 
flames  streaming  up,  and  now  and  then  the  booming 
of  exploding  guns.  Poor  Aunty  crying  and  clinging 
to  Clayton,  he  trying  to  excite  her  to  zeal  in  the 
'  glorious  cause,'  as  he  calls  it,  and  begging  me  not 
to  leave  her,  when  at  last  he  had  to  go.  We  have 
not  heard  a  word  from  him  since.  I  see  no  one  but 


128  GfMINL 

poor  Aunty,  and  the  Doctor,  the  servants,  and  one  or 
two  neighbors.  I  think  we  are  in  no  sort  of  danger ; 
I  am  quite  well,  and  will  write  whenever  I  can  hope 
to  send.  Don't  let  dear  Pen  worry  about  me.  I  am 
sure  God  will  bring  us  all  together  by  and  by,  and  I 
know  that  I  am  of  more  use  here,  than  I  could  be 
anywhere  else  just  now.  Perhaps  I  can  persuade 
Aunty  to  go  home  with  me  when  she  is  stronger,  and 
yet  she  [we  was  first  written,  but  carefully  marked 
out]  will  be  more  likely  to  get  news  from  Clayton 
here.  So  we  can  only  wait  and  hope,  and  pray  for 
each  other.  People  here  speak  about  the  North  in  a 
way  that  I  can  hardly  bear,  but  I  clench  my  teeth 
and  my  hands,  out  of  sight,  and  say  nothing  for 
Aunty's  sake." 

"  O  dear-me-sorrows  !  "  cried  Samanthy,  when 
this  was  read,  sniffing  away  a  tear,  "to  think  of 
our  Lally's  larnin'  patience  an'  prudence  in  sech 
a  hard  school  as  that."  Months  passed  before 
another  letter  came.  The  long  quiet  of  Beebury 
was  stirred  into  new  currents  of  feeling  and 
action.  Enlisting  and  drilling  among  the  men  ; 
sewing  and  knitting,  for  the  soldiers,  among  *he 
women,  — took  precedence,  in  interest,  of  the  old 


GEMINI.  129 

routine  of  field  and  household  labor.  Penny 
continued  teaching  until  the  long  summer  va 
cation,  and  did  her  best  to  cheer  the  mothers, 
wives,  and  sweethearts  of  the  absent,  though 
her  own  heart  ached  for  news  of  her  sister,  aunt, 
and  cousin. 

Samanthy  worked  more  diligently  than  ever, , 
making  and  selling  butter  and  cheese,  mending 
and   saving   in   every   possible    way,  for  prices 
were  rising,  and  the  Elder's  pay  came  in  very 
slowly  and  uncertainly. 

She  was  growing  more  and  more  stern  and 
silent,  in  the  absence  of  the  girls  and  the  press 
ure  of  new  anxieties.  -  She  saw,  before  any  one 
else,  a  steady  failing  in  the  Elder's  memory  and 
strength,  but  would  not  confide  it  to  Penny. 
"  Bad  enough  for  her  to  be  shet  off  from  all 
tidin's  of  Lally,  'thout  this  'ere  dispensation 
top  o'  that.  She  's  larned  her  woman's  lesson 
a' ready,  that  keepin'  busy's  the  best  intment 
for  an  achin'  heart." 

Hiram,    too,    had   his    share   of   the   troubles 
9 


130  GEMINI. 

of  the  time.  Manly,  intelligent,  and  brave, 
he  could  not  fail  to  be  among  the  first  to 
step  forward  when  his  President  called.  The 
night  that  the  news  came  of  the  attack  on  the 
Massachusetts  Sixth  in  Baltimore,  he  went  into 
the  Elder's  study  to  tell  him  he  must  go.  Sa- 
manthy  guessed  his  purpose  by  his  resolute 
look,  and  her  knowledge  of  what  she  should 
do  in  his  place ;  and  rubbed  so  hard  on  the 
brass  candlesticks  she  was  polishing,  that  no 
skin  was  left  on  her  flying  knuckles. 

After  nearly  an  hour,  Hiram  came  out,  look 
ing  pale  and  worn,  as  if  from  a  struggle.  He 
would  have  left  the  house  without  a  word,  but 
his  sister's  white,  silent  look  of  inquiry  stopped 
him  a  moment  in  the  door- way. 

"I  was  hopin' .to  go  with  the  other  boys, 
S'manthy ;  but  the  Elder  thinks  he's  breakin' 
down,  an'  that  I  'd  orter  stan'  by  him  an'  .the 
place  an'  the  gals"  —  His  voice  broke  ;  he  set 
his  teeth  hard,  and  stamped  his  foot  in  fierce 
impatience  of  his  own  weakness,  and  hastily 


GEMINI.  131 

strode  off  to  the  fields,  but  not  before  Samanthy 
had  caught  his  hand  in  hers,  with  an  appreci 
ating  squeeze,  saying, —  . 

"You're   on    the    right    track,    Hiram:    it's 
braver  stayin'  than  goin'  this  time,  I  b'lieve." 


132  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

"  Nor  is  that  wind  less  rough,  which  blows  a  good  man's  barge." 

Empedodes.  —  MATTHEW  ARNOLD. 

TF  Hiram  had  any  doubts  as  to  his  decision, 
they  were  effectually  removed  a  few  weeks 
later.  The  news  of  the  rout  at  Bull  Run,  and 
the  prospect  of  a  long  war  which  it  opened, 
proved  too  great  a  shock  for  the  gentle  Elder, 
in  whom  an  earnest  loyalty  was  united  with  a 
sincere  love  for  his  wife's  home,  the  scene  of 
his  happiest  years. 

He  was  stricken  down  by  paralysis ;  and 
though,  in  the  course  of  weeks,  he  recovered 
so  far  as  to  speak  intelligibly,  move  about  with 
Hiram's  help,  and  enjoy  sitting  in  the  sunshine, 
his  powers  of  reasoning  and  recollection  were 
permanently  injured,  and  there  was  no  hope 
that  he  would  ever  preach  again. 


GEMINI.  133 

The  summer  vacation  had  begun;  and  Pen 
was  at  home,  to  the  unspeakable  comfort  of 
Hiram  and  Samanthy.  To  her  surprise  and 
distress,  she  found  she  was  no  longer  first 
with  her  father.  If  Samanthy  were  out  of  his 
sight,  he  became  restless ;  constantly  claimed 
her  help  and  attention  when  she  was  near ; 
and  seemed  to  find  infinite  rest  and  support  in 
her  abrupt  vigor  and  cheerful  decisiveness. 
Hiram  came  next  in  his  favor ;  was  always 
greeted  with  a  smile,  and  sometimes,  in  the 
pathetically  faltering  speech,  with  the  words, 
"Welcome,  my  son;"  but  Pen,  no  one  could 
say  why,  —  but  it  may  have  been  because  she 
was  absent  so  much  during  the  months  when 
he  felt  himself  failing,  —  seemed  to  have  drifted 
out  of  the  inner  circle  of  his  thoughts  ;  and, 
though  always  treated  with  gentle  courtesy,  was 
never  called  upon,  if  the  others  were  present. 
The  pain  with  which  she  perceived  this  change 
was  softened  by  the  thought  that  she  should 
now  be  free  to  teach  again  when  school  opened, 


134  GEMINI. 

—  a  most  important  duty,  now  that  she  would 
be  the  principal  bread-winner  of  the  family. 
The  church  had  voted  to  continue  the  Elder's 
salary  through  the  current  year,  but  was  too 
poor  to  do  more.  Hiram  cared  faithfully  for 
every  foot  of  the  little  farm,  and  Samanthy  sold 
more  butter  and  cheese  than  any  one  else  in 
town  could,  from  two  cows ;  but  the  family 
means  were  greatly  straitened,  and  the  times 
grew  ever  harder.  Letters  from  Lally  came 
at  long  and  irregular  intervals  ;  but,  being  nec 
essarily  subjected  to  official  inspection,  were 
generally  brief,  constrained,  and  unsatisfactory. 
She  had  removed  to  Richmond  with  Aunt 
Virginia  in  the  early  summer,  because  there 
they  were  near  Clayton,  and  could  communicate 
freely  with  him,  which  would  have  been  impos 
sible  at  Norfolk.  They  were  living  with  a  sister 
of  Dr.  Lee's,  and  the  Norfolk  house  was  let, 
giving  Aunt  Virginia  a  modest  income. 

"  We  are  both  well,"  wrote  Lally  in  November,  "  and 
I  should  be  quite  happy  if  I  knew  you  were.     I  have 


GEMINI.  135 

not  had  a  letter  from  you  for  four  months,  and  cannot 
understand  why,  unless  it  is  because  you  wrote  to 
Norfolk,  and  the  letters  have  never  been  forwarded. 
I  try  to  believe  you  are  all  well ;  but  this  silence  is 
very  hard  to  bear,  and  I  long  unspeakably  to  see  you. 
I  dare  not  ask  Aunty  to  go  North  until  spring  ;  but 
perhaps  she  will  then,  and  in  that  hope  I  wait,  know 
ing  that  in  the  mean  time  I  am  of  much  comfort  to 
her.  I  must  tell  you  a  wonderful  thing  from  C.'s  last 
letter.  He  says  the  mail  came  into  camp  one  day 
when  they  had  been  weeks  without  letters,  and  were 
just  wild  for  news  from  home.  When  the  letters 
were  distributed,  C.  had  three,  and  his  friend,  Ashley, 
none.  A.  was  awfully  disappointed,  of  course,  and 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  read  one  of  C.'s.  So  C., 
who  had  read  two,  handed  one  of  them  to  him,  say 
ing, —  'Here,  you  may  read  my  mother's,  if  you 
like,'  —  but  in  his  hurry  gave  him  mine  ;  and  the  first 
words  A.  saw  were,  '  Yours  lovingly,  Lally  Mason,' 
written  across  the  top,  where  I  always  finish,  you 
know.  He  stopped  reading,  and  called  out,  '  Here  's 
some  mistake,  C. !  Who  under  heavens  is  Lally 
Mason  ? '  Of  course  C.  was  indignant  at  first,  but 
they  soon  came  to  an  understanding ;  and  what  do 
you  think  ?  Mr.  Ashley's  father  found  that  old,  old 
letter  of  ours  to  the  slaves,  that  we  put  into  Hiram's 
box  of  plantation  shoes  in  our  baby  days !  Mr. 
Ashley  has  kept  it  as  a  curiosity  all  these  years, 
pasted  into  his  pocket-book  ;  and  C.  actually  saw  it, 


136  GEMINI. 

and  sent  me  a  correct  copy.  I  'cried  over  it  like  a 
baby,  Pen  ;  it  brought  back  old  times  so :  but  did  you 
ever  hear  of  any  thing  so  strange  as  its  turning  up 
again  ?  " 

This  letter  infused  new  hope  and  courage  into 
Pen's  faithful  heart,  and  enabled  all  to  pass  a 
cheerful  Thanksgiving  Day.  Pen  had  secretly 
dreaded  the  return  of  the  festal  season,  with  its 
inevitable  associations  of  happier  days  ;  but  good 
Mrs.  Hopkins,  divining  her  feelings,  insisted  that 
the  whole  family  should  dine  with  her  and  the 
Doctor. 

It  was  the  only  place  where  they  would  have 
wished  or  dared  to  take  the  Elder ;  but  he  seemed 
pleased  to  go,  and  all  went  off  well,  Samanthy 
declaring  that  "  'twas  a  blessin'  she  'd  never 
known  afore,  to  eat  a  Thanksgivin'  dinner  that 
she  had  not  cooked  herself."  The  winter  went 
quietly  by,  and  spring  found  Pen  still  teaching, 
Hiram  and  Samanthy  busy  at  home,  and  the 
Elder  living  a  gentle  invalid  life  ;  while  a  theo 
logical  student,  on  sick-leave  from  his  seminary, 
preached  in  his  stead. 


GEMINI.  137 

One  afternoon  in  the  latter  part  of  May,  the 
warm  weather  having  fairly  set  in,  even  in  the 
mountain  region  of  Beebury,  Mrs.  Hopkins  was 
hard  at  work  putting  away  woollens  and  furs  for 
the  season.  Sleigh-robes,  extra  blankets,  the 
Doctor's  heavy  suits,  her  own  merino  dresses 
and  stone-marten  muff,  collar,  and  cuffs,  the  red 
parlor-curtains,  &c.,  were  all  to  be  shaken  and 
brushed,  in  view  of  the  insidiously  lurking  moth, 
and  folded  away  in  the  big  chest  in  the  garret, 
with  plentiful  sprinklings  of  snuff,  camphor  being 
this  year  too  expensive.  As  the  day  wore  on, 
the  heat  increased  ;  and  the  good  lady's  face 
grew  redder  and  redder  from  the  vigor  of  her 
exertions.  One  by  one  she  twitched  off,  as  un 
bearable,  her  collar,  cuffs,  cap,  dress-skirt,  and 
basque,  and  stood  at  last  unhampered,  but  glow 
ing  still,  in  an  old  calico  jacket  and  striped  bal- 
moral  petticoat.  Her  hair,  which  was  still  pretty 
and  abundant,  had  tumbled  down  during  her 
wrestling  with  the  curtains  ;  and,  to  use  her  own 
words,  had  been  "wobbed  up  anyhow,  to  be 


138  GEMINI. 

out  of  the  way,"  and  she  was  often  obliged  to 
stop  to  breathe,  and  wipe  the  beads  of  dew  from 
her  upper  lip,  to  say  nothing  of  spasmodic  fits 
of  sneezing,  superinduced  by  the  pungent  snuff. 
"  I  suppose  I  'm  a  fool  not  to  call  Doctor  to  help 
me,"  she  panted,  as  she  toiled  up  the  steep  garret 
stairs  with  her  fifth  armful,  and  made  an  ineffec 
tual  attempt  to  open  the  heavy  chest  with  her 
elbow.  "  He  's  always  willing  enough  ;  but  "that 
ain't  all.  Men  mean  well,  but  they're  all  thumbs 
when  they  try  to  do  women's  work  ;  sure  to  fold 
left  if  you  fold  right,  —  give  a  twitch  just  when 
you  ain't  ready,  and  pull  a  thing  right  away  ;  and 
yet,  for  all  their  awkwardness,  they  think  they 
know  more  about  it  than  you  do,  and  are  forever 
trying  to  teach  you  a  better  way.  Besides,  I  dare 
say  he 's  taking  a  sly  little  nap  over  his  books, 
though  he  wouldn't  own  to  it." 

She  was  only  half  wrong.  The  Doctor  had 
finished  his  sleep,  and  was  preparing  to  go  across 
the  green  to  the  post-office,  where  the  tri-weekly 
stage  had  just  arrived,  bringing  his  beloved 


GEMINI.  139 

"  Journal."  Since  the  war  began,  he  had  never 
failed  to  awaken  at  mail-time,  however  sleepless 
the  previous  night.  Suddenly  he  skipped  to  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  and  called  in  a  mysterious, 
muffled  voice, — 

"  Persis,  Persis  !  Look  out  the  front  window  ! 
Two  ladies  have  come  on  the  stage,  and  are 
crossing  over  this  way !  I  do  believe  that  tall 
stylish  girl  is  one  of  your  New  York  cousins. 
Do  hurry  down  !  I  'm  off  the  back  way  for  my 
paper." 

"  Stop  !  stop  !  Doctor  !  "  screamed  his  wife, 
who  had  flown  to  peep  through  the  "bowed" 
blinds.  "I 'mall undressed!  Ir^wVcomedown.  O 
Glorianna  !  it 's  Lally  Mason  and  her  little  aunt ! 
Thank  the  Lord  for  his  goodness  !  I  don't  care 
how  I  look."  And  the  impulsive,  motherly, 
though  childless,  woman,  ran  down  the  stairs, 
pushed  open  the  green-blind  doors,  and  laugh 
ing,  crying,  and  kissing,  dragged  her  visitors  in 
before  the  Doctor  could  escape  or  realize  what 
had  happened. 


140  GEMINI. 

While  Aunt  Virginia  and  Mrs.  Hopkins  were 
exchanging  an  incoherent  freshet  of  questions, 
apologies,  answers,  and  exclamations,  Allegra  — 
taller  and  paler  than  of  old,  and  with  an  inde 
scribable  new  air  of  dignity  and  elegance, 
stepped  directly  to  the  Doctor,  and  taking  his 
hand  in  both  hers,  said  in  an  unnaturally  quiet 
voice,  — 

"  How  are  all  at  home  ?  tell  me  truly  and 
quickly." 

"  Your  father  better,  the  rest  perfectly  well, 
dear  child,"  he  answered,  and  kissed  her  on  the 
forehead. 

She  turned  abruptly  away,  and  with  a  loud, 
shuddering  sob,  threw  herself  on  her  knees  by 
the  sofa,  and,  burying  her  face  in  the  cushion, 
burst  into  uncontrollable  crying,  that  shook  her 
from  head  to  foot. 

The  elder  ladies  flew  to  her  side  in  alarm  ;  but 
the  Doctor,  declaring  that  it  would  do  her  good, 
turned  them  both  out,  bidding  his  wife  make 
Mrs.  Lee  comfortable,  and  get  tea,  after  which 


GEMINI.  141 

he  would  drive  both  the  ladies  to  the  Elder's 
house.  He  let  the  weary,  excited  girl  cry  as  long 
as  she  would,  restraining  her  only  by. his  pres 
ence,  and  a  gentle  touch  now  and  then  on  her 
hair.  At  last  she  became  still,  and  then  he  made 
her  lie  comfortably  on  the  sofa,  drink  a  quieting 
draught,  and  listen  to  a  full  account  of  all  that 
had  passed  during  the  fifteen  months  of  her 
absence.  He  dwelt  briefly  upon  her  father's  ill 
ness,  though  preparing  her  to  find  him  much 
changed,  but  spoke  long  and  earnestly  in  praise 
of  Pen's  courage  and  sweetness,  and  Samanthy 
and  Hiram's  faithful  devotion. 

Lally  was  eager  to  see  them  all  immediately, 
but  he  prevailed  upon  her  to  rest  and  wait. 
After  tea  he  would  take  her  home ;  and,  if  she 
slept  well  that  night,  he  himself  would  take  her 
to  Mrs.  Buttrick's  in  the  morning  to  see  Pen. 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Buttrick  is  one  of  the  greatest 
sufferers  from  this  wretched  war,"  he  added,  trying 
to  divert  her  from  her  own  family  affairs.  "  Bee 
thoven  was  one  of  the  first  to  go,  and  the 


142  GEMINI. 

younger  boys  soon  followed.     After  the  battle 

of ,  Beethoven  was  reported  missing,  and  no 

tidings  of  him  came  for  a  whole  month.  I  feared 
for  his  mother's  reason.  She  said  '  I  could  bear 
it  to  know  he  was  dead,  for  he  was  a  consistent 
perfesser,  an'  a  good  boy,  but  this  onsartainty  is 
drivin'  me  mad.  When  I  go  to  swaller  my  food, 
I  think  mebbe  he's  starvin',  an'  it  chokes  me. 
Ef  I  drink,  I  seem  to  hear  him  beggin'  for  water, 
an'  when  I  go  to  bed,  I  dream  that  he  's  a-lyin'  on 
the  wet  ground,  wounded  an'  dyin',  an'  nobody  to 
tend  on  him.'  She  lost  all  interest  in  her  house 
hold  affairs,  and  I  believe  she  would  have  lost 
her  reason  too,  if  she  had  not  taken  to  working 
in  the  fields  with  her  husband.  '  Putterin'  round 
alone,  at  things  I  Ve  done  so  long  I  c'd  do  'em 
with  my  eyes  shet,  never  '11  take  my  mind  off  my 
boy  ;  but  this  spadin'  an'  hoein'  an'  tryin'  to  keep 
up  with  Ezra,  an'  the  fresh  air  sort  of  soothin' 
my  head,  helps  me,  an'  I  git  so  dead  tired  I  c'n 
sleep  without  dreamin'.'  At  last  a  letter  came 
from  Pulaski  Dewey,  with  certain  news  of  poor 


GEMINI.  143 

Buttrick's  death.  '  Dewey  and  he  were  both 
wounded,  but  contrived  to  crawl  into  the  woods 
together  ;  and  there  Beethoven  died  from  loss  of 
blood,  suffering  little,  and  tended  by  his  old 
neighbor,  who  buried  him,  marked  the  spot,  and 
found  his  way  into  the  Union  lines,  two  weeks 
after,  very  nearly  starved.  To  know  that  her 
son  was  cared  for,  and  not'  alone,  comforted  the 
mother  greatly,  and  now  she  is  quite  calm  and 
like  herself,  but  keeps  poor  little  Clary  with  her, 
most  of  the  time." 

"  Clary  ?  "  questioned  Lally,  who  had  been 
listening  intently  but  so  quietly,  that  the  Doctor 
was  secretly  admiring  his  own  skill  as  a  nurse. 

"  Yes,  didn't  I  tell  you  ?  Clary  Flanders.  It 
turns  out  she  was  secretly  engaged  to  Beethoven, 
just  before  he  left.  Even  her  mother  didn't 
know  it,  and  the  poor  child  had  been  breaking 
her  heart  and  saying  nothing."  % 

"  O  poor  Clary !  dear  little  Clary !  I  am  so 
sorry  for  her,"  cried  Lally,  losing  her  calmness 
all  at  once,  and  breaking  out  again  into  such 


144  GEMINI. 

wild  weeping,  that  the  Doctor  called  himself  a 
fool  for  talking  so  much,  made  her  drink  more 
ammonia,  and  promise  to  go  to  sleep,  with  which 
view  he  left  her  alone,  having  carefully  darkened 
the  room.  Like  a  tired  child,  she  did  sleep 
soon,  and  being  utterly  weary  in  mind  and 
body,  and  greatly  relieved  to  be  at  her  jour 
ney's  end,  neither  stirred  nor  wakened  until 
late  in  the  evening.  Meanwhile  Hiram,  having 
heard  at  the  post-office  of  her'  arrival,  verified 
the  news  at  the  Doctor's,  and  with  his  leave, 
and  the  loan  of  his  horse  and  chaise,  was  driving 
swiftly  up  Honey  Hill,  bearing  the  tidings  to 
Pen;  and  when  Lally  at  last  opened  her  eyes, 
her  sister  was  sitting  smiling  beside  her. 


GEMINI.   -  145 


CHAPTER   XII. 

"  Could'st  them  but  once  discern 
Thou  hast  no  right  to  bliss, 
No  title  from  the  gods  to  welfare  and  repose, 
Then  thou  would'st  look  less  mazed 
Whene'er  of  bliss  debarred, 
Nor  think  the  gods  were  crazed 
When  thine  own  lot  went  hard." 

Empedocles,  —  MATTHEW  ARNOLD. 

A  NOTHER  year  passed  over  Beebury,  and 
still  the  best  of  her  sons  were  away  in 
camp  and  hospital ;  while  the  old  men  and 
younger  boys  did  double  duty  on  the  farms, 
and  the  mothers,  wives,  and  sisters  cooked, 
knitted,  sewed,  and  prayed,  and  wrote  long 
letters  to  the  absent,  which  braced  heart  and 
hand  to*  noble  daring,  and  —  harder  task  — 
patient  enduring. 

The   Elder   was   gently   slipping   away  from 
life ;  smaller  and  smaller  grew  the  circle  of  his 


146  GEMINI. 

powers  and  pleasures.  To  sit  in  the  sun,  watch 
ing  Samanthy  at  work,  to  receive  his  food  from 
her  hand,  to  hear  Lally  read  from  his  well-worn 
copy  of  Milton,  and  to  watch  for  Hiram's  return, 
formed  now  his  whole  day.  That  he  should  be 
restless  and  impatient  if  the  Bible  or  any  de 
votional  book  were  read  to  him  had  'been  a 
great  surprise  to  the  family,  and  a  scandal  to 
the  parish,  until  Dr.  Hopkins  explained  that  his 
mind  was  thereby  recalled  to  his  old  duties,  and 
doubtless  distressed  by  its  ineffectual  attempts 
to  carry  on  connected  trains  of  thought  and 
reasoning,  and  to  construct  sermons  and  ad 
dresses  as  in  times  past. 

When  Lally  was  absent,  Samanthy  would 
avoid  the  afternoon  reading  as  long  as  she 
could,  tfying  to  divert  the  Elder  by  talking, 
while  she  sewed  or  knitted,  until,  at  last,  the 
patient  wistfulness  of  his  glance  from  her  to 
the  volume  now  always  within  reach  of  his 
hand  would  conquer,  and,  with  a  sniff  and  a 
toss  of  her  head,  she  would  say, — 


GEMINI.  147 

"  Wai,  ef  you  can  stan'  my  hoppin'  an'  stum- 
blin'  among  them  outlandish  words,  I  s'pose  /'d 
orter,"  and,  opening  at  fris  favorite  shorter 
poems,  would  begin,  with  sternly  knitted  brows, 
and  frequent  gaspings,  and  wetting  of  her  lips 
with  her  tongue,  — 

"  Hence,  loathed  Melancholy, 
Of  Cerberus  and  blackest  midnight  born,"  &c. 

"Onct,"  she  confided  to  Hiram,  "I  saw  a  lot 
of  names  comin',  worse  'n  the  second  chapter  of 
Acts,  and  thinks-says-I,  I  '11  skip,  and  he  '11 
never  know  ;  but  he  did,  bless  you,  an'  I  hed  to 
go  back  an'  tackle  'em,  arter  all !  I  can  per- 
nounce  most  on  'em  now  pooty  glib,  an'  some 
parts  I  c'n  understan',  an'  some  I  kinder  like  the 
sound  of  without  gettin'  the  sense,  like  a  good 
ol'  tune  to  meetin'  without  hearin'  the  words ; 

but  I  'm  free  to  confess    I  'd  ruther  shell  corn 

i 

enny  day,  ef  'tworn't  for  seem'  the  comfort  he 
takes." 

And  the  Elder  would  sit  and  listen  as  long 
as  she  would  read,  a  happy  smile  on  his  lips,  a 


148  GEMINI. 

dreamy  look  in  his  eyes ;  while  his  thin,  blue- 
veined  hands  moved  slowly  up  and  down  on  the 
polished  arms  df  his  chair. 

This  was  a  very  frequent  occurrence;  for 
Lally,  in  her  deep-lying  sympathy  for  those 
who  had  dear  ones  in  the  army,  had  formed  the 
habit  of  carrying  the  letters  —  brought  three 
times  a  week  by  the  stage — to  such  families 
as  lived  at  a  distance  from  the  post-office,  and 
could  not  spare  time  in  the  haying  season  to 
come  to  the  village  on  an  uncertainty.  She 
had  begun  by  taking  those  for  Pulaski  Dewey's 
mother,  thereby  enjoying  a  brief  sight  of  Pen 
and  the  thanks  of  the  widow,  in  return  for  her 
long  walk  ;  but  gradually  one  and  another  of  the 
neighbors  had  begged  the  same  favor,  "if  she 
was  comin'  that  way  ;  "  and  it  had  become  almost 
a  matter  of  course.  Nor  was  she  often  obliged 
to  walk ;  for,  in  the  general  war-interest,  some 
body's  horse  was  almost  always  at  her  disposal 
for  her  kindly  task. 

One  August  afternoon,  during  Pen's  vacation, 


GEMINI.  149 

Lally  having  been  at  home  over  a  year,  the  sis 
ters  went  as  usual  Jo  the  office,  found  no  letters 
for  themselves,  but  one  for  Samanthy,  and  quite 
a  bundle  for  the  "  hill-folks,"  as  the  post-mistress 
phrased  it,  handing  them  to  Lally  with  the 
usual,  — 

"  S'pose  you  're  goin'  up  ? " 

"Yes." 

"Wai,  Deacon  Sawyer  left  word  't  you  could 
hev  his  sorrel,  ef  you  hed  a  mind  to  hitch  her 
up.  He  an'  the  boys  is  usin'  the  oxen  to-day 
in  the  fur  lot." 

"  That 's  nice  !  "  said  Lally,  rousing  herself 
from  the  sadness  that  always  came  over  her 
when  there  was  no  letter  from  her  aunt,  long 
since  returned  to  Virginia.  "  Come,  Pen,  it 's 
just  the  day  for  a  ride;  and  we'll  keep  on  and 
call  on  Mrs.  fiuttrick  after  we  Ve  left  the 
letters." 

Pen  followed,  only  lingering  to  hand  back 
Samanthy's  letter  to  the  post-mistress,  say 
ing,  — 


ISO  GEMINI. 

"  I  '11  leave  this  :  Hiram  may  come  in." 

She  had  noticed,  what  Lally  had  not,  that 
it  bore  the  Virginia  mail-mark,  though  addressed 
in  an  unfamiliar  hand  ;  and  an  undefined  dread 
made  her  wish  to  delay  further  knowledge. 

The  drive  proved  a  pleasant  one  ;  for  Pen's 
being  quiet  was  nothing  unusual;  and  Lally 
seemed  for  the  time  to  have  recovered  some 
thing  of  her  old  lightness  of  mood.  As  the 
fat,  sleepy  horse  jogged  up  the  long,  sandy  hill, 
she  talked  and  laughed  over  childish  adventures, 
recalled  by  places  they  passed,  and  had  a  pleas 
ant  word  for  every  one  they  met. 

"  Nothing  to-day,  but  better  luck  to-morrow," 
she  called  to  a  pale  little  wife  of  a  year  who 
came  out  with  a  minute  babe  in  her  arms,  and 
looked  wistfully  at  the  bundle  of  letters. 

"  I  grudge  these,"  she  cried  soon  after,  lean 
ing  out  of  the  wagon  to  drop  two  letters  and  a 
paper  into  a  rude  wooden  box,  with  a  lid  hang 
ing  by  one  leathern  hinge,  which  was  nailed  to 
the  road-side  gate-post  of  a  reputedly  rich  and 


GEMINI.  151 

miserly  old  bachelor,  who  had  recently  refused 
to  open  his  house  for  "  soldiers'  sewing-meeting," 
though  it  was  the  largest  on  the  hill.  "  I  grudge 
all  but  army  letters  now-a-days,  Pen,  I  believe ; 
and  it  doesn't  make  a  bit  of  difference  that  poor 
Clayton  is  on  one  side,  and  everybody  else  I 
know  on  the  other.  All  I  feel  is,  how  hard  it 
is  for  us  women  to  wait  and  fear  at  home,"  and 
the  sad  lines  re-appeared  on  the  face  Pen  loved 
so  well,  and  had  never  studied  in  vain,  until 
since  the  southern  visit. 

"Stop,"  cried  Lally,  after  a  pause;  "there  is 
Mrs.  Sanborn  beckoning  to  us.  There  is  no 
letter  for  her  to-day ;  we  took  her  one  Monday 
I  remember,  it  was  from  New  Orleans." 

"  O  girls ! "  cried  Mrs.  Sanborn,  coming  breath 
lessly  to  the  wagon-side,  her  check  apron  thrown 
over  her  head  as  a  sunshade,  "  what  do  you 
think  ?  Dannel  Plummer  's  dead  !  We  got  the 
news  in  Henry's  letter  that  you  fetched  up 
Monday.  He  died  of  a  fever,  down  to  New 
Orleens,  in  a  Catholic  hospital !  Oh,  ain't  it 


152  GEMINI. 

dreadful !  An'  we  hain't  had  courage  to  tell 
his  wife  yet." 

Pen  and  Lally  exchanged  looks  of  distress 
and  amazement,  and  glanced  involuntarily  at 
Mrs.  Plummer's  little  unpainted  house,  not  a 
stone's  throw  from  Mrs.  Sanborn's  gate. 

"  I  know  we  'd  some  of  us  ought  to,"  apologized 
the  good  woman  ;  "an'  so  this  morning  Melissey 
an'  me  drawed  lots,  an'  it  fell  to  her  ;  an'  she  was 
jest  goin'  over,  when  who  should  come  in  but 
Mis'  Plummer  herself,  all  fixed  to  go  black- 
berryin'.  '  O,  Mis'  Sanborn,'  says  she,  '  will 
you  let  Danny  stay  'long  o'  your  boys,  to-day  ? 
I  'm  goin'  to  pick  berries  for  jam.  My  man  he 's 
a  master-hand  for  blackberry  jam  ;  an'  I  thought 
I  'd  make  up  a  lot,  so  's  to  send  him  ef  I  had  a 
chance,  an'  he  didn't  git  a  furlough  this  fall.' 
We  couldn't  'a'  told  her  then,  to  save  us,  an'  she 
a-smilin',  an'  swingin'  her  ten-quart  pail,  as  car'less 
as  a  school-girl.  An'  off  she  went,  an'  she 's  only 
jest  come  back.  I  saw  her  goin'  in  her  back 
door,  as  you  come  in  sight,  an'  I  thought  I  'd  wait 
an'  see  if  you  had  a  letter  for  her." 


GEMINI.  153 

Lally  shook  her  head. 

"  Well,  don't  you  think,  bein'  the  Elder's  girls, 
you  know,  p'raps  she'd  take  it  kinder  easier  if 
you  "  - 

The  sisters  shrank  back  involuntarily ;  and 
Mrs.  Sanborn,  ashamed  of  her  own  cowardice, 
was  silent  too,  when  Mrs.  Plummer  appeared  at 
her  front  door,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  arm,  — 
a  tall,  handsome,  gipsy-looking  young  woman,  — 
and  pity  and  sympathy  suddenly  mastered  every 
thing  else  in  impetuous  Lally,  and  crying,  — 

"I'll  tell  her.  You  go  on,  Pen;  leave  the 
other  letters,  and  come  back  for  me  as  soon 
as  you  can,"  she  jumped  from  the  wagon, 
snatched  Henry's  letter  from  his  thankfully 
apologetic  mother,  went. swiftly  up  the  ragged 
path,  and  disappeared  in  the  house  with  its 
owner. 

"  You  've  got  a  letter  for  me,  hain't  you  ? " 
said  the  latter,  joyfully.  "  You're  awfully  good, 
Lally  Mason,  to  come  'way  up  here,  I  do 
say." 


154  GEMINI. 

"No,  it  isn't  for  you,  it's  from  Henry  San- 
born  ;  but  his  mother  thought "  — 

"  Well,  that 's  too  bad  of  Dannel,"  interrupted 
the  wife,  peevishly:  "he  hain't  written  to  me 
once,  where  Henry 's  wrote  his  folks  three  times  ! 
I  do  believe  it's  most  two  months  sence"  — 

"  But  he  has  been  sick,"  said  Lally,  —  "  very 
sick,"  she  added,  seeing  an  incredulous  look  on 
the  massive  and  now  sullen  features.  "  Henry 
says  he's  been  in  the  hospital.  Don't  you  want 
to  sit  down  and  let  me  read  to  you  about  it  ? " 
her  knees  beginning  to  tremble. 

Mrs.  Plummer  sat  down,  but  her  face  was 
turned  away,  till  Lally  began  to  read  some 
unimportant  sentences  in  such  a  trembling 
voice,  that  she  was  roused,  and  sharply  said,  — 

"  He  ain't  much  sick,  is  he  ? " 

Lally  nodded,  tears  running  down  her  cheeks. 

"  Oh,  read  it  quick !  He  wasn't  out  of  his 
head,  was  he  ?  Poor  Dannel !  No  wonder  he 
didn't  write  !  He  didn't  want  to  scare  me.  He 's 
awful  good  to  me,  Dannel  is.  He'll  be  mad 


GEMINI.  155 

with  Henry,  I  know  he  will !  How  long  was 
he  abed  ?  Not  to  call  dangerous,  was  he  ?  Oh, 
do  lemme  see  !  " 

"  Oh,  wait ! "  cried  Lally,  "  let  me  read  it  to 
you ; "  and,  with  a  great  effort,  and  pausing 
between  each  few  words,  — 

"  Daniel  was  one  of  the  first  cases  —  and,  in 
spite  of  the  best  of  care  —  he  grew  worse  and 
worse  —  and  last  Friday  the  Doctor  gave  him 
up  —  and  about  midnight  "  —  Lally  stopped,  put 
her  arms  around  the  poor  wife,  hardly  older  than 
herself,  and  solemnly  added,  —  "  he  died !  " 

Mrs.  Plummer  gave  one  wild,  inquiring  look 
into  Lally's  face,  then  sat  as  one  stunned,  me 
chanically  plaiting  the  hem  of  her  coarse  apron, 
and  at  last  slow  tears  began  to  fall. 

"  I  never  thought  he  'd  die  'way  off  there,"  she 
said  at  length,  in  a  strange,  dreamy  voice.  "  He 
was  always  good  to  me,  Dannel  was ;  an'  so 
rugged,  I  never  thought  he  'd  die  and  leave  me 
an'  Danny  alone." 

"  He   had    the    best    of    care,    Henry    says," 


1 56  GEMINI. 

ventured  Lally.  "  Shall  I  read  you  the  rest 
now  ? " 

This  she  did,  explaining  as  well  as  she  could 
about  sisters  of  charity  and  army  hospitals  to 
the  bewildered  and  ignorant  girl  by  her  side, 
who,  in  the  midst,  picked  up  the  envelope  from 
the  floor,  and,  pointing  to  the  gaily  colored  figure 
of  a  soldier,  printed  on  one  corner,  —  that  army- 
stationery,  so  common  then,  so  laid  away  in 
treasured  bundles  now,  said, — 

"  It  looks  like  Dannel,  don't  it  ?  Oh,  it  does, 
certain !  Do  you  b'lieve  Mis'  Sanborn  '11  care 
if  I  keep  it  ? "  and  suddenly  began  to  .cry  bit 
terly  over  the  poor  little  tawdry  picture,  which, 
in  fact  was  as  unlike  her  stern-featured,  heavy- 
shouldered  husband  as  a  slim  boy  well  could  be. 
She  was  still  sobbing  convulsively,  and  Lally 
gently  touching  her  bent  head  in  shy  sympathy 
from  time  to  time,  when  Pen  came  in. 

"  I  guess  I  ain't  very  polite,"  cried  the  young 
widow,  starting  to  her  feet.  "  You  're  very  kind, 
Lally,  and  you  too,  Penny;  but  p'raps  you'd 


GEMINI.  157 

better  come  again  some  other  day,  an'  please  tell 
Mis'  Sanborn  I'll  send  the  letter  home  to-mor 
row — an'  you  take  them  plums,  do  —  all  on  'em  : 
I  got  'em  for  my  man,  he's  such  a  hand  for 
jam  —  an'  now  —  I  can't  never  cook  for  him  no 
more." 

She  hastily  covered  her  face  with  her  apron, 
pushed  the  berry-pail  towards  them,  and  ran  into 
an  inner  room,  as  they  softly  closed  the  outer 
door,  and  left  her  with  her  trouble.  The  home 
ward  ride  was  very  sad  and  silent ;  but,  before 
the  sun  had  set,  Mrs.  Plummer  and  her  loss 
were  completely  blotted  from  the  girls'  minds. 
Samanthy's  letter,  as  Pen  feared,  was  from  Aunt 
Virginia's  sister-in-law,  and  brought  the  news  of 
Clayton  Lee's  instant  death  by  the  premature 
bursting  of  a  shell. 

The  next  six  months  were  so  sad,  that,  even 
when  serener  years  came,  Pen  did  not  like  to 
recall  them.  Lally  was  greatly  overcome  by 
the  news  of  Clayton's  death  ;  her  grief  was  bit- 


158  GEMINI. 

ter,  stormy,  and  rebellious;  and  so  beyond  any 
ordinary,  cousinly  feeling,  as  to  make  it  pain 
fully  evident  to  her  sister,  Samanthy,  and  even 
Hiram,  that  she  had  given  him  her  whole  girlish 
heart.  She  went  about  like  one  for  whom  the 
world  is  hopelessly  darkened  ;  lost  her  appetite, 
neglected  her  duties,  became  careless  in  her 
dress,  absent-minded,  petulant,  and  spiritless ; 
nor  could  any  gentle  leading  from  her  sister,  or 
plain  questioning  on  Samanthy's  part,  induce  her 
to  open  her  heart.  She  refused  comfort  and 
sympathy  alike.  This  was  bad  enough  ;  but,  as 
the  winter  advanced,  and  stormy  winds  and 
blockaded  roads  obliged  her  to  confine  herself 
more  and  more  to  the  house,  thus  losing  the 
relief  of  her  long  walks,  she  became  subject  to 
occasional  hysterical  attacks  of  great  violence, 
followed  by  such  utter  prostration,  that  she 
could  not  rise  from  bed  next  day.  The  brunt  of 
all  this  came,  of  course,  upon  faithful  Samanthy, 
who,  under  Dr.  Hopkins's  instructions,  cared  for 
the  sufferer  with  unfailing  patience  and  firm- 


GEMINI.  159 

ness,  concealing  the  worst  from  Pen,  who  was 
teaching  again,  and  only  at  home  once  a  week. 
That  tender  heart,  however,  suffered  keenly  from 
her  sister's  condition  and  moods,  "  and  the  days 
were  dark  and  dreary." 

"  If  she  would  only  tell  me  all  about  it,  I  think 
it  would  help  her,  and  I  could  bear  it  better," 
she  said  one  Saturday  night  to  Samanthy,  when 
Lally  had  gone  to  bed  early,  saying  that  her  head 
"ached  too  much  even  to  hear  about  your  school, 
Pen  dear."  The  Elder  was  long  since  asleep,  and 
Hiram  in  the  barn,  so  poor  Pen  slid  down  to  the 
floor,  rested  her  head  on  her  old  friend's  knee,  and 
sobbed  as  she  had  not  since  childhood.  Saman- 
thy's  knitting  and  spectacles  slipped  forgotten 
under  the  table,  greatly  to  the  kitten's  joy,  and 
her  hard  hands  gently  unpinned,  unbraided,  and 
smoothed  out  the  weeping  girl's  long  hair,  as 
she  said,  — 

"Jest  you  hev  patience,  dear  child.  Lally 
she  '11  come  out  all  right,  by'n  by ;  she 's  jest 
like  a  colt  when  you  fust  put  on  a  halter ;  she 


160  GEMINI. 

don't  know  what  to  do  with  her  trouble,  an' 
she  '11  toss,  an'  kick,  an'  fret  a  while,  but  at  last 
she  '11  find  out  what  it  means,  an'  who 's  a  doiri 
of  it,  an'  then  she  '11  be  our  own  gal  again.  Don't 
you  be  afeard !  It's  allers  darkest  jest  afore 
day,  but  I  do  avum  an'  avow,  for  all  I  like  your 
aunt  well  enough,  I  wish  that  'ere  rebel  boy  o' 
hern  hadn't  never  come  anigh  Beebury." 

Hiram,  coming  in,  heard  her  last  words,  and 
seeing  Pen's  dejected  attitude  and  flowing  hair, 
softly  slipped  off  his  boots  and  went  upstairs  to 
bed,  muttering  between  his  set  teeth  as  he  gained 
a  safe  distance,  "Amen  to  that,  Samanthy." 

But  Pen  had  another  trouble  which  she 
could  tell  to  no  one. .  She  received  about  this 
time  a  letter  from  John  Stedman,  the  quiet 
scholarly  teacher  of  classics,  at  Greenville  Acad 
emy,  during  her  happy  two  years  there.  He 
had  made  her  feel  then,  she  hardly  knew  how, 
that  she  was  different  from  all  other  girls  in  his 
eyes  ;  and  his  rare  compliments  and  confidences 
had  been  shyly  treasured  in  her  inmost  heart 


GEMINI.  l6l 

ever  since.  In  his  letter  he  eloquently  confessed 
his  preference,  explained  that  poverty  alone  had 
kept  him  silent  so  long,  and  asked  her  if  she 
could  love  and  trust  him  well  enough  to  accept 
him  as  her  husband,  and  share  his  fortunes,  now 
that  he  had  obtained  a  good  position  as  Principal 
of  a  High  School  in  a  large  town  in  Michigan.  He 
begged  for  an  immediate  answer,  as  his  duties 
would  require  his  presence  there,  in  a  few  months. 
Pen  dared  not  dwell  on  the  vision  of  how  wide 
and  sweet  life  might  become,  if  spent  with  him 
who  had  so  long  been  her  model  of  manly  excel 
lence,  her  knight,  her  hero.  She  firmly  said  to 
herself  that  her  invalid  father,  her  suffering 
twin-sister,  must  be  her  first  duty.  The  former 
might  live  many  years,  and  certainly  could  en 
dure  no  great  change.  To  leave  Lally  was  im 
possible,  and  even  if  Mr.  Stedman  should  ask 
her  to  share  their  home,  how  might  she  not 
suffer  from  a  climate  even  harsher  than  her 
own  ?  Promptly,  but  with  untold  heartache  and 
tears,  Pen  wrote  her  answer,  saying  firmly  that 


1 62  GEMINI. 

it  could  not  be,  and  then  tried,  God  only  knew 
how  vainly,  to  rejoice  that  no  second  letter  ever 
came. 

In  February,  when  "  the  days  began  to 
lengthen,  and  the  cold  began  to  strengthen," 
the  Elder  died  in  his  sleep,  and  was  found 
by  Hiram  in  the  morning,  with  a  calm,  nay 
triumphant  look  upon  his  face.  Prepared  as 
they  had  been  for  the  event,  and  little  as  they 
had  leaned  upon  his  gentle,  unpractical  arm, 
the  sisters  were  greatly  shocked  and  distressed. 
Death  had  never,  in  their  remembrance,  been  in 
the  house  ;  they  were  orphans,  and  there  was  a 
terrible  chill  in  the  thought.  It  proved  a  bless 
ing  in  disguise,  however ;  for  it  broke  down  the 
reserve  between  them,  and  showed  Lally,  as  by 
a  flash  of  lightning,  how  selfishly  cruel  had  been 
her  behavior.  On  the  first  night  after  their 
bereavement,  she  opened  her  heart  to  Pen,  and 
sobbed  out  her  story  in  those  tender  arms. 

"  I  loved  him  from  the  first,  Pen  !     How  could 


GEMINI.  163 

I  help  it  ?  So  winning,  so  superior  to  all  I  had 
seen !  But  I  didn't  really  understand  myself. 
Until  I  went  to  Norfolk,  I  was  only  a  shy,  happy 
child  ;  but  when  I  saw  him  there,  among  other 
girls,  many  much  prettier  than  I,  and  far  more 
like  him, —  stylish  and  lively,  you  know,  —  and 
when  I  heard  them  sing  and  play,  and  talk  fast, 
and  amuse  him,  as  I  never  could,  I  think  I  be 
came  a  woman  all  at  once,  I  suffered  so  ;  and  I 
saw  that  some  of  them  liked  him  as  much  as  I 
did,  so  I  tried  my  best  to  improve  myself,  and 
to  keep  any  one  from  suspecting  what  I  felt. 
But  oh !  when  that  last  dreadful  night  came,  and 
he  told  me  he  was  going,  and  for  what,  —  it  froze 
my  heart  within  me,  Pen :  it  came  so  suddenly ! 
We  were  alone,  for  he  had  an  idea  of  getting  me 
to  break  it  to  his  mother.  I  cannot  tell  you 
what  I  did,  or  how  I  looked  ;  but  I  lost  all  my 
strength,  and  the  world  seemed  to  whirl  away 
from  me,  till  suddenly  I  found  he  was  kneeling 
by  nty  chair,  and  kissing  my  hands,  and  calling 
me  his  darling.  Then  he  said  he  had  always 


1 64  GEMINI. 

thought  me  very  sweet,  but  supposed  that  I 
didn't  care  a  bit  for  him  ;  and  would  I  love  him 
now,  and  be  his  own,  and  pray  for  him,  and  wait 
for  him,  even  if  he  was  a  rebel.  O  Pen !  can 
you  think  what  happiness  it  was  ?  No,  you  can't, 
for  you  have  never  —  But  it  didn't  last  long, 
for  he  had  to  go,  and  he  made  me  promise 
solemnly  to  tell  no  one  of  our  engagement ;  for 
his  mother  wanted  him  to  marry  a  southern  girl, 
and  he  didn't  believe  I  would  have  strength  to 
be  true,  and  to  love  him,  now  that  war  had  really 
come,  and  I  must  return  to  the  North.  Oh  !  you 
may  guess  how  I  promised  that  I  would  for 
ever  — but*  I  mustn't  think  of  that,  or  I  shall  go 
wild.  Fancy,  if  you  can,  Pen,  how  I  felt  when 
his  mother  told  me,  after  he  had  been  gone  some 
time,  that  he  had  been  in  love  with  Mary 
Grahame  for  years, — she  was  the  gayest  and 
handsomest  of  those  girls,  —  and  that,  after 
encouraging  him  to  the  utmost,  she  had  refused 
him,  and  engaged  herself  to  a  rich  old  planter 
just  two  days  before  Clayton  went  away  !  Aunty 


GEMINI.  165 

said  she  '  ought  not  to  tell  me,  for  he  had  made 
her  vow  never  to  breathe  it  to  any  one ;  but  of 
course  she  knew  it  would  be  safe  with  me,  who 
was  just  like  a  sister  to  him.'  You  know  her 
soft,  pretty  way  of  relieving  her  mind,  Pen,  and 
how  she  always  must  have  sympathy.  She 
little  knew  how  she  was  torturing  me  with 
the  discovery  that  I  had  been  only  an  after 
thought,  and  a  consolation  that  perhaps  he  would 
never  have  dreamed  of,  if  he  hadn't  seen  how  I 
loved  him,  and  been  feeling  lonely  and  piqued 
just  then.  I  hated  myself  for  my  easy  faith  in 
his  love,  and  my  haste  to  assure  him  of  mine ; 
for  I  had  already  written  him  such  letters  as  a 
girl  would  write  to  her  lover  who  has  gone  into 
danger.  Where  are  they  now,  do  you  suppose  ?  I 
fought  with  myself  day  and  night,  sometimes  hop 
ing  that  I  should  never  see  him  again,  sometimes 
praying  that  I  might  yet  be  his  happy  wife  ;  now 
strong  in  my  pride,  and  then  all  broken  down  by 
a  loving  note  from  him,  or  a  dream  of  seeing  him 
wounded.  Then  there  was  all  the  anxiety  one 


1 66  GEMINI. 

has  for  a  soldier,  and  all  the  bitterness  of  know 
ing  that  people  here  hated  him  and  his  cause. 
Often  and  often  I  have  stopped  my  ears  when 
they  have  prayed  in  meeting  that  the  rebels 
might  be  defeated  and  put  to  confusion.  Then 
came  the  news  of  his  death,  and  not  a  word 
for  me !  And  I  gave  myself  up  to  despair 
and  have  been  hateful  and"  wicked  to  you  and 
Samanthy,  and  careless  of  my  poor,  dear  father ; 
and  now  he  is  gone,  and  I  can  never  ask  him  to 
forgive  me."  Here  she  gave  way  to  such  con 
vulsive  crying,  that  Pen,  lavishing  upon  her  the 
tenderest  caresses,  was  seriously  alarmed  ;  and 
Samanthy,  who  had  been  lying  awake  in  the  next 
room,  anxious,  yet  rejoicing  that  confession  had 
come  at  last,  finally  came  in,  wrapped  in  a  blanket, 
and  bearing  a  candle,  and  said  firmly,  — 

"  Lally  Mason,  ef  you  don't  want  your  sister 
laid  out  flat  with  a  narvous  headache  to-morrer, 
an'  you  no  better  yourself,  you'll  jest  say  your 
'  Now  I  lay  me/  an'  go  off  to  sleep,  and  let 
her." 


GEMINI.  167 

Then,  with  hands  far  more  gentle  than  her 
words,  she  disengaged  their  clinging  arms,  shook 
and  smoothed  each  pillow,  made  the  girls  lie 
down,  straightened  and  retucked  the  bed-clothes, 
brushed  each  cheek  with  one  of  her  hasty, 
shame-faced  kisses,  and  stalked  away,  re 
marking, — 

"  There  is  times,  an'  there  is  seasons ;  an  / 
b'lieve  the  Lord  gev  the  night  for  sleep." 


1 68  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

"  Shall  we  expect  from  time,  the  physician  of  brutes,  a  lingering  and 
uncertain  deliverance?  Shall  we  wait  to  be  happy  till  we  can  forget 
that  we  are  miserable,  and  owe  to  the  weakness  of  our  faculties  a  tran 
quillity  which  ought  to  be  the  result  of  their  strength  ?  " 

LORD  BOLINGBROKE. 

"\T  7E  must  now  refer  briefly  to  parish  matters. 
The  theological  student  previously  al 
luded  to  having  returned  refreshed  to  his  sem 
inary  in  the  autumn,  Beebury  church-goers  had  • 
since  been  suffering  from  the  usual  succession 
of  missionary  agents,  and  invalid,  and  otherwise 
"  stickit "  ministers,  to  use  the  expressive  Scotch 
phrase.  In  the  spring  succeeding  the  Elder's 
death,  becoming  weary  of  these  temporary  sup 
plies,  and  having  no  longer  to  pay  Mr.  Mason's 
salary,  they  agreed  to  "  call "  a  Mr.  Kilburn  to 
become  their  settled  pastor.  He  was  a  plain 
but  excellent  man,  with  less  refinement  and 


GEMINI.  169 

education  than  his    predecessor,   but   far   more 
practical  sense,  and  "  a  better  hand  for  social 

visitin'  an'  gettin'  acquainted." 

% 

He  had  a  thin,  hard-working,  "  capable  "  wife, 
and  four  children  between  the  ages  of  three  and 
thirteen ;  but  was  hopeful  of  living  on  the  five 
hundred  a  year  offered  him,  provided  a  parsonage 
could  be  added.  Many  and  perplexed  were  the 
church-meetings  when  his  decision  was  made 
known ;  and  at  last  Dr.  Hopkins  was  appointed 
a  committee  of  one  "  to  ascertain  what  the 
sisters  Mason  would  take  for  their  farm  and 
buildings." 

It  was  at  once  a  sad  trial  and  a  great  tempta 
tion  to  our  girls,  and  was  soberly  considered  and 
discussed  by  them  with  Samanthy  and  Hiram. 
One  rainy  Sunday  evening,  which  Jane  Austen 
says — and  no  one  knew  human  nature  better  — 
is  the  time  of  times  for  confidential  talk,  the  four 
sat  late  around  the  open  wood-fire  in  the  kitchen, 
having  resolved  to  send  in  their  decision  on 
Monday. 


1 70  GEMINI. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Lally,  who  was  wrapped 
in  a  soft  white  shawl  of  Pen's  knitting,  in  spite 
of  the  snapping  fire,  "  if  we  put  the  price  of  the 
place  at  interest,  we  could  hire  rooms  somewhere, 
and  live  on  the  income,  by  taking  in  a  little 
sewing,  and  then  Pen  need  not  teach.  I  would 
rather  live  on  potatoes  and  milk  than  have  her 
away  any  longer." 

"That  ain't  no  great  of  a  sacrifice,  Lally," 
interrupted  Samanthy,  "  for  you  don't  eat  enough 
to  keep  a  bird  now." 

Pen  looked  anxiously  at  her  sister,  and 
said,  — 

"  We  should  not  feel  the  winds  so  much  in 
the  Hollow,  and  Mrs.  Flanders  and  Clary  are 
very  anxious  we  should  take  part  of  their  house. 
We  couldn't  be  with  kinder,  quieter  people." 

"  Thet  's  so,"  said  Samanthy ;  "  an'  ef  you  '11  'gree 
to  take  a  rest  from  teachin',  Penny,  I  'm  one  for 
that  idee.  House-work  '11  be  dreffle  easy  in  that 
little  place,  an'  mebbe  a  change  '11  do  us  all  good  ; 
but  I  wanter  know  what  Hiram's  plannin'  'mounts 
to,  that  he's  so  awfle  still  'bout." 


GEMINI.  171 

"  Yes,  Hiram,"  said  Pen,  "  you  told  us  to  count 
you  out  of  our  new  arrangements,  and  you  would 
tell  us  soon  what  you  meant  to  do.  Something 
near  us,  I  hope,  for  we  shall  miss  you  terribly : 
shan't  we,  Lally  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  Do  marry  a  rich  widow  with 
a  big  farm,  Hiram,  and  invite  us  all  to  tea  once 
a  week." 

"  Shoe-bizness  to  Coneford  more  likely," 
guessed  Samanthy  ;  while  Pen  suggested  that 
perhaps  he  would  stay  and  manage  the  farm 
for  Mr.  Kilburn,  see  that  her  favorite  cow  was 
kindly  treated,  and  that  none  of  the  cinnamon 
rose-bushes  were  cut  away  from  the  dear  old 
orchard  door-step. 

"  I  wish  I  could  do  that  much  for  you,  Penny," 
he  replied,  so  soberly  that  they  all  looked  up. 

"  I  'm  a-goin'  to  see  the  war  out,  girls.  You 
don't  need  me  now,  for  Samanthy  '11  see  to  things  ; 
an'  I  can't  stand  it  no  longer  without  doin'  my 
part." 

"  O  Lord  above !  "  cried  Samanthy,  and  threw 


1 72  GEMINI. 

her  apron  over  her  head,  more  utterly  surprised 
and  dismayed  than  the  girls  had  ever  seen 
her. 

They  were  quite  silent  for  some  moments ; 
and  Hiram,  who  had  been  gazing  steadily  into 
the  fire,  at  last  looked  up,  and  experienced  the 
most  bitterly  sweet  moment  he  had  ever  known. 
Pen's  beautiful,  earnest  eyes  were  full  of  tears  ; 
and,  meeting  his,  brimmed  over.  She  put  up  her 
hands  and  cried,  without  attempting  to  conceal 
it.  He  knew  it  was  only  from  surprise,  and  for 
"  auld  lang  sync's  "  sake  ;  but  it  thrilled  him  to  the 
core,  and  came  back  to  him  again  and  again  with 
inspiring  force  in  the  crowded  loneliness  of  a 
private's  life  in  camp,  in  many  a  keen  emergency 
of  the  battle-field.  A  month  later  he  was  with 

the th  in  active  service,  the  girls  and  Saman- 

thy  were  installed  in  the  Widow  Flanders's  front 
rooms,  and  the  tribe  of  Kilburn  possessed  the 
old  home  in  their  stead.  The  change  proved  at 
first  a  very  happy  one  for  our  heroines  and  their 
old  friend.  The  price  of  the  estate  gave  them 


GEMINI.  173 

income  sufficient  to  pay  their  rent  and  house 
keeping  expenses,  with  Samanthy's  help ;  for, 
by  her  express  wish,  she  no  longer  received 
wages  from  them,  but  paid  her  proportion  of  all 
outlay  from  the  interest  of  her  long-saved  and 
well-invested  earnings. 

"T'aint  no  ways  likely  that  the  jints  an'  sin- 
noos  of  sixty-year-old  are  wuth  ez  much  ez  young 
uns,  aft'  I  '11  'gree  to  let  you  gals  do  two-thirds 
o'  the  work,  ef  you'll  give  me  the  prevvylidge  of 
payin'  my  shear,  an'  feelin'  as  ef  I  was  one  o'  the 
family,  an'  not  nobuddy's  hired  help  no  more. 
Mebbe  it's  sinfle  pride,  an'  mebbe  it's  laziness, 
but  that's  what  I  puppose,  ef  you  hain't  no 
objections." 

"The  only  objection  I  see,  you  dear  old  hum 
bug,  is,  that  you  never  will  let  us  do  our  share  of 
the  work,"  cried  Lally. 

"  Ez  to  that,"  retorted  Samanthy,  "  nobuddy's 
back  ain't  a-goin'  to  be  broke  with  what  we've 
got  to  do  here.  Now 't  we  hain't  got  your  blessed 
father  to  wait  on;  an'  Hiram  he's  a-past  our 


174  GEMINI. 

cookin'  an'  mendin'  for;  an'  no  milk,  nor  butter, 
nor  cheese  chores  ;  an'  no  sewin'-s'ieties,  nor 
donation-parties  to  git  fixed  for,  an'  cleared-up 
arter  "  — 

"And  no  colporteurs  or  exchange-preachers 
and  their  wives  to  stay  over  Sabbath,"  inter 
rupted  Lally. 

"  Yes,  an'  no  libe'ry  books  to  kiver,  nor  Sar- 
bath  papers  to  write  on,  an'  cirkylate,  nor 
'Sociation  comp'ny,  I  feel  ez  ef  I  was  on  a  visit 
somewheres,  an'  hadn't  no  work  to  do,  an'  so  I've 
laid  out  to  take  in  a  little  tailorin'  now  an'  then, 
to  kinder  pass  away  the  time." 

To  Pen,  the  rest  from  teaching,  and  the  pleas 
ure  of  being  with  her  sister,  were  happiness 
enough ;  and,  but  for  her  anxiety  about  Lally's 
health,  the  spring  and  summer  would  have  been 
almost  unclouded  in  their  peaceful,  simple  hap 
piness,  in  spite  of  her  heart-hidden  "  it  might 
have  been."  The  cold  Lally  had  taken  the  pre 
vious  autumn,  while  carrying  letters  one  rainy 
afternoon,  during  her  gloomiest  time,  had  left  a 


GEMINI.  .  1/5 

little  cough,  never  quite  shaken  off ;  though  she 
made  light  of  it,  and  always  had  some  excuse  for 
her  capricious  appetite  and  want  of  strength. 
"  I  never  was  very  hungry  in  warm  weather,  you 
know,  Pen,"  or,  "  I  believe  my  southern  visit 
made  me  lazy,"  she  would  smilingly  protest,  if 
Pen  glanced  at  her  neglected  plate,  or  looked 
anxious  because  Lally  liked  to  sit  while  wiping 
dishes.  "  When  Fall  comes  you  will  see  how 
greedy  and  active  I  will  be." 

Hiram's  letters  came  often,  and  were  ad 
dressed  in  regular  succession  to  the  three,  who 
answered  them  in  like  manner,  and  kept  their 
soldier  faithfully  informed  of  all  their  own  and 
the  village  doings.  Who  can  estimate  the  -power 
of  such  letters  in  inspiring  men  with  hope,  cour 
age,  patience,  life  itself  ?  in  restraining  and 
shielding  them  from  the  hardening  influences 
of  the  world  ?  Lally  took  much  pleasure  in  the 
companionship  of  pretty  little  Clary  Flanders, 
her  old  school-mate  and  life-long  crony,  whose 
love-story  had  been  so  sadly  like  her  own.  Lally 


176  GEMINI. 

never  referred  to  Clayton  in  their  talks ;  but  there 
was  no  sting  and  no  secret  in  Clary's  sorrow, 
and  it  was  to  her  a  comfort  to  pour  out  all  her 
heart,  to  speak  of  Beethoven's  many  virtues,  and 
read  over  his  letters  to  so  sympathetic  a  listener. 
Samanthy's  "  little  tailorin'  "  project  proved 
quite  an  important  source  of  occupation  and 
income  ;  for  Sophronia  Elliot,  who  had  cut  and 
made  jackets  and  trousers  for  Beebury  boys 
for  twenty  years  past,  was  also  a  professional 
nurse ;  and  when,  in  August,  scarlet-fever  became 
epidemic  in  the  neighborhood,  she  had  little  time 
for  sewing,  and  sent  all  customers  to  her  rival. 
Little  Danny  Plummer  was  among  the  stricken  ; 
and  his  mother,  who  had  never  forgotten  Lally's 
sympathy,  and  'had  often  brought  her  thank- 
offerings  of  berries  and  flowers,  now  sent  her  an 
urgent  message  to  come  and  see  him.  Lally, 
who  had  had  the  fever  in  childhood,  went  at 
once.  She  found  the  child  alone,  in  a  small, 
stiflingly  hot  room,  —  window  and  door  carefully 
closed,  though  the  day  was  sultry  and  still,  — 


GEMINI.  177 

tossing  in  delirium  on  a  feather-bed  ;  a  bunch  of 
sweet-fern,  tied  together,  fading  beside  him,  had 
evidently  been  used  as  a  fan.  In  another  mo 
ment,  the  mother  appeared,  coming  panting  up 
from  the  brook  behind  the  house,  with  something 
struggling  rolled  in  her  apron. 

"  O  Lally  !  "  she  cried,  "  how  good  you  be  !  I 
hain't  seen  a  soul  to-day  :  folks  is  so  scared  of 
ketchin'  the  fever.  Shet  the  door,  do  :  he  '11  get 
his  death-a-cold.  See  here  !  I  've  ben  to  the 
brook  and  got  a  live  frog  :  they  say  it  '11  eat  up 
the  canker,  ef  I  put  it  down  Danny's  throat,  an' 
I  'm  a-goin'  to  try  it,  for  the  poor  child  can't 
swaller,  nor  goggle,  nor  hardly  breathe.  I  must 
do  somethin',  an'  the  stuff  the  Doctor  left  don't 
'pear  to  do  no  kind  o'  good." 

With  much  difficulty,  Lally  prevailed  on  the 
poor  woman  to  abandon,  or  at  least  defer,  this 
astounding  method  of  cure,  to  let  in  a  little  fresh 
air,  change  the  feather-bed  for  one  of  straw,  and 
cut  off  the  tangled  curls  from  the  restless  head. 
These  changes  sorely  taxed  Mrs.  Plummer's  faith 


178  GEMINI. 

in  her  visitor ;  but  by  firmness  and  patience,  and 
by  promising  to  remain  overnight,  Lally  at  last 
accomplished  them,  and  was  rewarded  by  the 
evident  relief  of  the  child.  Even  with  Dr.  Hop- 
kins's  care,  however,  in  addition  to  her  faithful 
nursing, — she  remained  three  days  and  nights, 
—  the  case  proved  a  fatal  one,  and  during  the 
third  night  Danny  was  released  from  his  pain. 
When  Dr.  Hopkins  came  next  morning,  Lally 
was  in  an  exhausted  sleep  on  the  kitchen  settle, 
a  rude  wooden  bench  with  rockers,  under  which 
corn-cobs  were  wedged  to  keep  it  from  moving. 
He  listened  anxiously  to  her  quick  breathing, 
and  felt  the  pulse  in  her  thin  wrist  with  a  very 
grave  face. 

"  Let  her  sleep  as  long  as  she  will,"  he  said  to 
Mrs.  Plummer ;  "  and  when  she  wakes  tell  her  I 
am  coming  this  afternoon  to  take  her  home  in 
my  chaise." 

"  Ain't  a-goin'  to  hev  the  fever,  is  she  ?  I 
shall  never  forgive  myself  ef  Lally  Mason  gits 
enny  harm  here." 


GEMINI.  179 

"  Oh,  no !  but  she  needs  rest,  and  so  do  you, 
Mrs.  Plummer :  I  will  try  and  get  Mrs.  Elliot  to 
stay  with  you  till  after  the  funeral,  and  then  you 
had  better  shut  up  the  house  a  while,  and  come 
down  to  •  us.  Mrs.  Hopkins  needs  a  little  help 
in  her  house-cleaning  and  preserving,  and  it  will 
make  a  change  for  you,"  he  added  kindly,  taking 
the  weeping  woman's  hand  as  he  bade  her  good- 
morning. 

Before  sunset  he  returned,  took  Lally  home, 
and  ordered  Pen  to  put  her  to  bed,  and  make  her 
sleep  twenty-four  hours  ;  then,  taking  Samanthy 
aside,  he  grew  sober,  and  said,  — 

"  There  must  be  no  more  nursing  done  by 
that  child,  whoever  sends  for  her.  She  has  no 
strength  to  spare  in  watching,  and  is  a  great 
deal  more  like  her  mother  than  I  wish  to  see.  If 
we  don't  take  the  best  of  care,  she  will  slip  away 
from  us.  There  is  too  little  vitality,  and  no 
recuperative  power.  I  will  send  her  a  tonic,  and 
you  must  keep  her  cheerful  'and  busy,  but  watch 
that  she  does  not  overdo." 


1 80  GEMINI. 

The  next  victims  of  the  epidemic  were  Mrs. 
Kilburn,  the  minister's  wife,  and  her  youngest 
child  ;  soon  after  which,  the  cases  became 
lighter,  and  the  dreaded  disease  gradually  dis 
appeared  from  the  town.  Mr.  Kilburn  soon  came 
to  see  if  Samanthy  would  again  undertake  the 
superintendence  of  the  parsonage  and  its  moth 
erless  children ;  but,  reinforced  by  the  entreaties 
of  Pen  and  Lally,  Hiram's  peremptory  letters, 
and  the  Doctor's  advice,  she  declined  the  honor 
as  a  permanent  arrangement,  though  consenting 
to  go  for  a  few  weeks.  "  Jest  a  little  spell,  till 
they  kinder  git  on  their  feet  agin,  you  know,  an' 
see  where  they  be.  I  shall  soon  be  comin'  back 
to  you  gals,  to  settle  down  for  life,  like  a  cross- 
grained  ol'  maid  ez  I  be,  an'  the  parson  can  spry 
round  an'  find  somebuddy  else  ;  git  another  wife, 
fur-ez-I-know." 


GEMINI.  I  Si 


CHAPTER   XIV.     . 

"  Busied  she  seemed,  and  half  distressed 
To  do  for  him  and  them  the  best." 

Mari  Magno.  —  CLOUGII. 

/COMPROMISES  are  dangerous  things  how 
ever  ;  and  this  was  no  exception,  but  drew 
after  it  a  train  of  consequences  which  even  Sa- 
manthy's  shrewdness  could  not  foresee,  which 
even  her  courage  would  have  shrunk  from.  So 
we  have  often  seen  some  unskilful  player  at 
checkers  or  chess,  after  long  knitting  of  the 
brows,  and  many  half-reachings  of  the  hand,  in 
endeavor  to  devise  some  series  of  moves  which 
shall  carry  confusion  into  the  enemy's  lines, 
finally,  in  impatient  self-disgust  at  the  fruitless 
delay,  make  a  sudden  move  which  he  thinks  at 
least  harmless,  and  finds,  to  his  dismay,  when  too 
late,  that  he  has  thereby  opened  a  way  for  the 


1 82  GEMINI. 

foe    to    his    "king-row,"    or    exposed    his   most 
cherished  pieces  to  destruction. 

The  first  result  was  the  revival  of  Samanthy's 
love  for  her  old  home  and  duties.  For  nearly 
twenty  years,  she  had  been  the  ruling  spirit  in 
the  first  family  in  town.  Her  parlor  had  been 
better  furnished,  her  spare  beds  more  numerous 
and  often  filled,  her  kitchen  larger  and  neater, 
her  list  of  guests  more  distinguished,  her  rules 
for  cake  more  sought  after,  than  even  Mrs. 
Deacon  Sawyer's  or  Mrs.  Dr.  Hopkins's.  To 
go  from  all  these  semi-official  dignities  on  the 
Hill,  to  the  humble  domain  of  three  little  rooms 
at  the  Hollow,  and  do  tailoress-work  for  So- 
phronia  Elliot,  was  a  fall  indeed,  although,  as  we 
have  seen,  she  tried  to  look  upon  her  new  posi 
tion  as  a  rise  in  life,  and  had  succeeded  in  con 
cealing  her  home-sickness  and  sense  of  humili 
ation  from  the  girls.  They  had  no  such  feelings. 
Sincerely  sorrowing  for  their  father,  each  with 
a  heart-ache  to  be  silently  lived  down,  —  Pen, 
thoroughly  weary  of  school-work ;  and  Lally,.lan- 


GEMINI.  183 

guid,  yet  restless,  —  both  found  the  change  a 
welcome  j-elief.  From  March  till  September, 
all  was  apparent  contentment.  Mr.  Kilburn's 
appeal  was  like  a  stone  thrown  into  a  pool, 
which,  Camarina-like,  once  disturbed,  was  long 
in  regaining  peace  and  clarity. 

No  Arab  steed  restored  to  the  desert,  no 
prisoned  sailor  returning  to  the  sea,  could  have 
experienced  a  keener  satisfaction  than  our  Sa- 
.manthy,  reinstated  in  her  big  kitchen,  her 
ample  buttery  and  numberless  cupboards,  and 
to  the  care  of  her  beloved  cows,  her  churn,  her 
triple  meal-chest,  and  herb-hung  garret !  She 
could  have  shed  joyful  tears  over  the  well- re 
membered  crack  in  the  hearth-stone,  where  the 
soap  always  would  lodge  in  scouring,  and  the 
familiar  squeak  of  the  brick  oven  door,  was 
sweet  in  her  ears  as  bagpipes  to  a  Highlander, 
or  the  Jodel  to  a  Tyrolese. 

Mr.  Kilburn,  though  by  no  means  an  unprac 
tical  man,  like  Elder  Mason,  was  too  much  ab 
sorbed  in  parish  matters,  and  too  thankful  to 


1 84  GEMINI. 

have  his  household  wheels  run  smoothly  —  after 
so  many  weeks  of  confusion,  distress,  and  sick 
ness —  to  interfere  in  any  way.  Cordelia,  the 
eldest  child,  was  a  tall,  slender  girl  of  thirteen, 
whose  large,  dark  eyes  seemed  ever  wistful  with 
the  remembrance  of  her  dying  mother's  charge 
to  "  take  care  of  father  and  the  boys."  She  was, 
at  first,  a  little  jealous  of  Samanthy's  administra 
tion  in  that  mother's  place,  and  somewhat  afraid 
of  her,  as  well ;  but  soon  came  to  lean  upon  her 
as  a  real  friend,  who  enlightened  her  ignorance 
of  house-work,  without  laughing  at  her,  and 
whose  presence  made  beloved  school  once  more 
possible.  The  two  boys  were  easily  won :  Sa- 
manthy  helped  them  more  liberally  to  buck 
wheats  and  maple  syrup,  and  was  not  sterner 
in  her  door-mat  and  hat-hanging  rules  than 
their  mother  had  been.  That  mother  was,  by 
them,  forgotten  sadly  soon.  She  had  been  too 
hard-working  and  many-cared  to  pay  them 
much  attention  beyond  what  concerned  their 
food  and  clothing ;  and  home  had  become  little 


GEMINI.  185 

more  to  them  than  their  sleeping  and  eating 
head-quarters.  School  was  their  world,  and  a 
hard  fight  they  had  there,  to  make  way  against 
the  inevitable,  petty  animosities  and  persecutions 
which  assail  newcomers  from  another  town ,  es 
pecially  when,  by  slightly  better,  or  even  differ 
ing,  modes  of  dress  or  speech,  they  expose  them 
selves  to  the  vague  and  fatal  suspicion  of  being 
"  stuck-up." 

Samanthy's  stay  being  thus  desired  by  all 
the  family,  and  agreeable  to  herself,  was  pro 
longed  from  week  to  week,  by  ever-rising  emer 
gencies,  which  seemed  to  add  duty  to  inclina 
tion  ;  and,  as  she  and  the  girls  exchanged  very 
frequent  visits,  she  felt  that  she  was  still  watch 
ing  over  them,  while  her  wages  were,  .at  the 
same  time,  adding  considerably  to  what  she 
mentally  regarded  as  the  family  fund.  When 
she  went  to  the  Hollow,  her  whole  talk  was  of 
the  Kilburns,  —  when  at  the  parsonage,  she  was 
even  more  eloquent  in  regard  to  the  twins,  —  and 


1 86  GEMINI. 

soon  Cordelia  and  the  boys  liked  nothing  better 
of  an  evening  than  to  hear  her  picturesque  nar 
rations  of  what  Penny  and  Lally  and  Hiram  had 
done  and  said  in  old  times,  nor  was  their  father 
inattentive.  A  strong,  friendly  feeling  soon  arose 
between  the  families.  Mr.  Kilburn  told  Saman- 
thy  to  take  cream  and  fresh  eggs  to  the  "  deli 
cate  Miss  Mason "  whenever  she  liked,  and 
Cordelia  formed  a  child's  unquestioning  passion 
for  sweet-spoken  Penny,  whose  help  in  her 
lessons  was  so  much  easier  to  ask  than  Papa's ; 
while  the  boys  vied  with  each  other  in  bringing 
Hiram's  letters  from  the  post-office,  and  striving 
to  imitate  his  oft-told  feats  in  skating,  climbing, 
and  wood-splitting.  Every  pleasant  morning, 
Lally  walked  up  the  hill  for  a  little  chat  with 
her  old  friend  ;  she  called  it  taking  her  Jackman 
bitters,  and  insisted  that  it  did  her  more  good 
than  all  Dr.  Hopkins's  cod-liver  oil.  But  alas! 
these  calls  soon  made  the  slowly  fading  girl 
unspeakably  homesick  for  the  old  rooms  and 
well-known  corners  of  her  childhood's  home. 


GEMINI.  187 

Here  she  had  first  met  Clayton,  here  spent  so 
many  carelessly  happy  years  ;  there  were  the 
successively  rising  marks  of  her  height  and 
Pen's  on  the  side  of  the  cellar-door ;  and  from 
the  windows,  —  what  a  long-loved,  glorious  view 
of  the  pine-clad  hills,  and  Bald  Mountain's  rugged 
side  ! 

It  had  seemed  sheltered  and  cosy  at  Mrs. 
Flanders's  when  March  winds  were  loud  and 
rough  ;  but  now  —  beneath  the  watery  reluc 
tance  of  November  sunshine,  when  the  dead 
leaves,  drifted  into  hollows,  lay  slowly  decay 
ing —  it  looked  low,  damp,  unwholesomely  still 
and  shady.  If  Samanthy  came  to  the  Hollow  to 
spend  a  week,  Cordelia  was  always  running  down 
to  consult  her  about  some  household  perplexity, 
or  to  see  dear  Miss  Pen  ;  and  the  minister,  if 
going  on  some  pleasant  drive,  would  call  and  ask 
Miss  Lally  to  "  wrap  up,  and  take  the  air  with 
him."  Mrs.  Flanders  and  Clary  had  exchanged 
many  a  wise  look,  and  the  parish  gossips  had 
begun  to  talk  in  roguish  whispers  about  the 


1 88  GEMINI. 

"  minister's  consolin'  himself,"  and  "  the  Mason 
girls  goin'  back  where  they  belonged,"  long 
before  such  an  idea  occurred  to  Samanthy, 
much  less  to  our  twins.  In  primitive  and  hard 
working  communities,  a  widower  is  never  blamed 
for  thinking  of  a  new  help-meet  very  soon,  espe 
cially  if  he  has  young  children  ;  and  even  the 
mothers  of  grown-up  daughters  owned  that  no 
one  could  be  fitter  for  the  minister's  wife  than 
Penny  Mason,  who  was  already  a  church-mem 
ber,  well  versed  in  clerical  housekeeping,  and 
"  none  of  your  gad-about-flibbertigibbet  kind." 
When  Thanksgiving  Day  drew  near,  Samanthy 
was,  of  course,  in  demand  to  make  the  pies,  &c., 
at  the  parsonage ;  and,  while  her  honest  heart 
was  torn  with  the  conflicting  desires  of  presiding 
there  —  to  see  the  fowls  properly  cooked,  and  the 
boys  restrained  from  overeating  —  and  spending 
the  anniversary  with  her  girls,  she  was  deeply 
gratified  by  Mr.  Kilburn's  commissioning  her  to 
ask  the  favor  of  their  company  to  dinner  on  that 
day,  "  and  Mrs.  Flanders  and  her  daughter  too, 


GEMINI.  189 

if  you  like,"  he  added,  in  a  burst  of  hospitable 
thoughtfulness. 

Glowing  with  pride  and  pleasure,  Samanthy 
walked  to  the  Hollow  that  very  Saturday  after 
noon,  and,  meeting  Mrs.  Flanders  at  the  door, 
announced  her  errand  at  once. 

"  Well  I  never !  "  exclaimed  the  widow,  drop 
ping  into  a  chair.  "Just  hear  this,  Clary  !  we're 
all  invited  up  to  the  minister's  for  Thanksgivin', 
an'  here  was  you  and  me  a-plannin'  to  have  him 
an'  his  here,  if  we  could  make  out  to  'commodate 
'em  all  in  our  little  rooms.  As  sure  as  you  live, 
Samanthy,  we  were  just  settin'  chairs  along,  an' 
countin'  how  many  we  could  squeeze  in :  weren't 
we,  Clary  ? " 

Clary  confirmed  the  fact,  but  added,  "  It  '11  be 
twice  as  nice  to  go  up  there,  mother;  and  isn't 
Mr.  Kilburn  real  clever  to  think  of  us  ?  and  I  'm 
sure,  Samanthy,  if  we  can  help  you  any  way, 
getting  ready  for  so  many,  we'll  be  glad  and 
willing  :  won't  we,  mother  ?  " 

"  Indeed  we  will !    Just  say  the  word,  an'  we  '11 


1 90  GEMINI. 

come,  an'  we  won't  breathe  a  word  of  what  we  're 
hopin'  for,  till  you  give  us  the  wink :  will  we, 
Clary  ? " 

"  Oh,  hush,  mother !  "  cried  the  girl,  blushing 
guiltily  ;  "  she  might  be  coming"  in,  and  hear  you, 
and  I  'm  sure  she  hasn't  an  idea  of  it  yet." 

"  That 's  as  may  be,"  laughed  the  widow,  with 
a  wink  at  Samanthy,  who  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  in  honest  bewilderment.  Before  she  was 
allowed  to  go  upstairs,  however,  she  was  thor 
oughly  informed  of  what  "everybody  was  a-sayin', 
and  hopin'  too,  'cept  the  cross-grained  ones,  like 
'Lecty  Sage,  that  you  never  can  suit." 

She  was  so  entirely  surprised,  so  excited,  that 
she  could  not  tell  whether  she  liked  the  idea  or 
not ;  but,  with  a  desperate  presence  of  mind, 
contrived  to  laugh  off  her  embarrassment,  assur 
ing  her  hearers  that  "  it  was  all  news  to  her," 
she  was  "  too  busy  to  mind  village  talk,"  and  that 
"  some  folks  would  die  if  they  couldn't  fix  up 
other  people's  affairs,  an'  it 's  safe  to  b'lieve  jest 
a  third  of  what  you  hear." 


GEMINI.  IQI 

After  leaving  the  kitchen,  she  sat  down  upon 
the  narrow  stairs,  in  the  dark,  to  recover  breath 
and  balance  before  confronting  the  girls.  She 
might  as  well  have  sought  quiet  under  the  saw 
mill  opposite  :  its  rattling  shafts,  whirling  wheels, 
and  foaming,  roaring  water,  were  not  more  con 
fusing  than  her  own  conflicting  thoughts  and 
wishes.  Realizing  this  after  a  moment,  she  cov 
ered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  gasped  under 
her  breath,  "  O  God  of  the  fatherless,  fix  it  all 
the  best  way  for  her  good,  an'  deliver  me  from  self 
ishness  an'  meddlin'.  Amen."  Somewhat  com 
posed  by  this,  she  lifted  the  latch,  and  found  to 
her  relief  that  Pen  had  gone  out,  and  Lally  was 
asleep  on  the  sofa.  Closing  the  door  softly,  she 
tiptoed  into  the  back-room,  and  relieved  her 
excitement  by  stirring  up  and  frying  some  of  the 
girls'  favorite  drop-cakes  for  their  early  tea.  It 
was  dusk  when  Pen  returned  and  Lally  awoke, 
and  Samanthy  hastened  to  deliver  her  message 
before  the  lamp  was  lit.  She  could  hardly  have 
met  the  innocent  eyes  of  her  favorite,  with  her 
new  secret  on  her  mind,  and,  as  it  was,  felt  like  an 


192  GEMINI. 

arch-conspirator  as  she  extended  the  minister's 
invitation.  Pen,  shrinking  from  a  holiday  in  the 
house  so  doubly  solemnized  by  death  within  the 
year,  as  well  as  from  being  a  guest  where  so 
long  a  hostess,  looked  in  silence  at  her  sister. 
But  Lally,  feverishly  eager  for  change  of  scene, 
and  even  of  fare,  and  impatient  —  since  cold 
weather — of  her  present  narrow  quarters,  impul 
sively  answered,  — - 

"  Oh  how  nice  !  tell  him  yes,  and  thank  him : 
shan't  she.  Pen  ?  Won't  it  be  good  to  dine  there 
once  more,  and  have  a  grand  set-out  of  pies  in 
Samanthy's  best  style  ?  If  only  Hiram  could  get 
a  furlough  in  time  to  come  too." 

So  it  was  settled ;  and  Samanthy  trudged 
thankfully  home,  muttering,  as  she  crunched  the 
crisp  snow-crust  under  her  resolute  feet,  — 

"  I  b'lieve  'twould  be  the  best  thing  for  Lally, 
but  O  Lord !  I  can't  fix  it  to  look  right  for  our 
Penny  to  settle  down  with  acut-an'-driedman  o'  his 
age,  —  hair  brindled  a'ready,  an'  three  great  chil 
dren  to  stepmother  to,  an'  all  the  women  in  the 
perrish  peckin'  and  criticism'  every  new  bunnit 


GEMINI.  193 

an'  gown,  jest  as  they  did  her  poor  mother's  ; 
an'  yet,  take  it  t'  other  way,  he  's  a  good  stiddy- 
goin'  man,  easy  tempered,  as  men  go,  never  med- 
dlin',  nor  yet  forgettin',  like  the  poor  Elder,  an' 
havin'  wore  out  one  wife,  all  the  more  likely  to 
be  kinder  keerful  of  another.  'T would  be  the 
ol'  home,  too,  an'  no  more  school-keepin',  an' 
everybuddy  respectin'  her,  an'  me  allus  round  to 
see  't  she  didn't  overwork  herself ;  yes,  if  onny 
she  k'n  take  a  notion  to  him,  I  dunno  but  what 
it's  the  best"  — 

"  Hullo,  S'manthy,"  called  out  Eben  Kilburn, 
dashing  swiftly  past  her,  face  down,  on  his 
"  clipper  "  sled,  "  letter  from  Hiram  for  you  on 
the  kitchen  dresser." 

Samanthy  turned  red,  though  safe  in  the  twi 
light,  and  in  the  shade  of  her  big,  green,  merino 
pumpkin-hood.  "  Hiram  !  "  She  had  forgotten 
him  in  her  new  air-castle.  What  would  he  say  ? 
She  walked  into  the  house,  feeling  suddenly 
tired  and  depressed. 

13 


194  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  To  despair  of  the  great,  and  sell  unto  the  mean  I 
O  thou  of  little  faith,  what  hast  thou  done?  " 

Difsychus.  —  CLOUGH. 

r  I  "HE  Thanksgiving  party  passed  off  very  hap 
pily.  Samanthy's  eyes  were  wide  open 
now,  and  she  became  sure  that  Mrs.  Flanders 
was  right  in  supposing  the  minister  "meant 
something,"  but  wrong  in  thinking  that  Pen 
was  aware  of  it.  The  excitement  of  so  large  a 
party  did  Lally  good,  —  raising  her  spirits,  and 
increasing  her  appetite ;  and  Pen,  seeing  her 
sister  so  bright,  beamed  with  gentler  happiness, 
and  found  the  day  less  trying  than  she  had 
feared.  Mr.  Kilburn  was  not  forgetful  of  his 
lost  wife,  whose  thin,  faithful  hands  had  pre 
pared  so  many  Thanksgiving  dinners  for  him 
in  former  years  :  and,  as  he  asked  a  blessing  on 


GEMINI,  195 

the  food,  tears  were  in  his  eyes  for  her  sake  ; 
yet,  before  the  sun  set,  he  had  twice  said  to  him 
self,  "  I  must  have  a  mother  for  Cordelia  and  the 
boys,  and  who  would  they  love  so  well  as  She? 
who  is  there  in  town,  I  could  so  gladly  call  my 
wife  ?  "  The  weather,  which  had  been  bright 
until  noon,  changed  suddenly  during  dinner,  and 
by  three  o'clock  the  sky  was  dark,  heavy  snow- 
flakes  began  to  fall,  and  the  wind  grew  bitterly 
cold.  Mrs.  Flanders  whispered  to  Pen  that,  if 
they  meant  to  reach  home  without  getting  wet, 
they  had  better  start  at  once.  Quick-eared  Cor 
delia,  leaning  on  Pen's  shoulder,  cried, — 

"  Stay  all  night,  dear  Miss  Pen !  You  would 
get  wet,  and  then  Lally  would  be  sick.  Say  yes ! 
Samanthy,  mustn't  they  stay?  See  how  deep 
the  snow  is,  and  the  wind  blowing  like  every 
thing." 

She  was  not  to  be  hushed  :  Mr.  Kilburn  and 
Samanthy  added  their  advice  and  earnest  invita 
tion  ;  and  Lally,  who  no  longer  refused  to  be  con 
sidered  an  invalid,  was  so  evidently  willing,  that 


196  GEMINI. 

Pen,  anxious  and  loving,  could  not  refuse.  The 
minister,  greatly  pleased,  now  insisted  on  taking 
Mrs.  Flanders  and  Clary  home  in  his  sleigh, 
offering  to  bring  back  whatever  the  girls  de 
sired  ;  and,  though  the  widow  protested  that  she 
and  Clary  "never  dreamed  of  not  walking,"  and 
had  brought  two  pairs  of  the  departed  Flanders's 
socks  to  draw  over  their  boots,  they  were  pres 
ently  tucked  snugly  under  the  bear-skins,  and 
went  off,  nodding  and  winking  unspeakable  fun 
and  satisfaction  to  Samanthy,  behind  Mr.  Kil- 
burn's  broad  shoulders. 

Cordelia  and  Samanthy  now  went  upstairs  to 
prepare  for  their  guests  ;  the  boys,  wearied  by 
so  many  hours  of  company  behavior,  sought  the 
freedom  of  barn  and  corn-chamber,  professedly 
to  pick  out  some  good  popping  ears,  Pen  having 
admitted  that  she  liked  to  pop  corn ;  Lally,  feel 
ing  the  reaction  from  her  unwonted  gayety,  soon 
fell  asleep  on  the  parlor  sofa  ;  and  Pen,  after  care 
fully  covering  her,  strayed  into  the  kitchen,  and 
sat  down  by  the  fire,  to  dream  over  old  times. 


GEMINI.  197 

How  good  it  was  to  see  the  blazing  logs  ;  the 
familiar  crane  and  pot-hooks  ;  the  kettle  sing 
ing  as  it  swung;  the  sturdy  iron  andirons,  and 
red-brick  hearth,  —  so  much  more  cosy  and  home 
like  to  her  eyes  than  the  pert  cooking-stove  they 
had  at  the  Hollow.  Oh,  how  many  other  winter 
twilights  she  had  sat  here !  She  seemed  again 
to  feel  the  little  shawl  around  her  waist,  as  when 
Hiram  tied  her  into  the  chair  while  he  set  the 
table.  Surely  her  father  was  in  his  study,  only 
waiting  to  be  called,  and  Lally  would  soon  come 
dancing  in.  Then  her  thoughts  wandered  to 
Clayton  —  and  Aunt  Virginia  —  the  war  —  and 
presently  John  Stedman's  earnest  letter  began  to 
repeat  itself  in  her  ears.  Where  was  he  now  ? 
Were  his  thoughts  of  her  angry  and  unforgiving  ? 
Would  he  go  alone  to  his  western  work,  a  gloomy, 
embittered  man  for  her  sake  ?  Or  could  it  be 
he  would  resign  those  prospects,  and  perhaps 
go  into  the  army  as  chaplain,  or  even  as  private, 
in  his  disappointment  ?  Her  cheeks  began  to 
glow ;  her  eyes  were  wet ;  the  fire  was  too 


198  GEMINI. 

scorching :  she  pushed  back  her  chair,  and  took 
up  a  newspaper  to  screen  her  face.  She  glanced 
at  it,  to  divert  her  mind  from  this  dangerous 
theme.  Only  at  night  must  she  think  of  John, — 
only  when  she  prayed  that  God  would  bless  and 
comfort  him.  She  read  idly  of  "  news  from  the 
front "  —  of  blockade-runners  seized  —  of  the 
high  prices  of  provisions  —  marriages  —  deaths. 
— "  What?" 

"  In  Lebanon,  2Oth  inst.,  by  Rev.  Cephas  Barnes,  Mr.  John 
Stedman,  of  L.,  to  Miss  Sarah  Turner,  daughter  of  Deacon 
Nathan  Turner,  &c." 

Pen  sat  quite  still,  reading  these  words  over 
and  over,  too  stunned  to  suffer,  feeling  as  if  the 
whole  world  were  slipping  away  from  her  — 
nothing  solid  left.  Waves  of  rainbow  colors 
seemed  to  run  over  the  paper ;  a  rushing  sound 
in  her  ears  confused  her;  her  lips  and  hands 
were  cold  and  numb :  but  she  clung  to  the  sheet, 
struggling  against  these  strange  sensations,  and 
whispering,  —  "It  is  some  mistake  ;  but  I  must 
read  it  again  before  any  one  comes."  Now 


GEMINI.  199 

the  words  are  clearer ;  yes,  it  must  be  true,  she 
remembers  Sarah  Turner  perfectly,  —  a  little  girl, 
with  pretty  face,  and  long  light  curls,  and  coax 
ing,  affectionate  ways  ;  always  helped  in  her  les 
sons  by  the  other  girls  :  one  who  was  satisfied 
with  her  day,  if  she  were  not  marked  deficient, 
a  shallow,  sweet-tempered  plaything  of  a  girl ; 
and  now  she  is  John's  wife !  Pain  began  to  stir 
through  bewilderment,  —  maidenly,  mortified 
pain.  And  she  had  been  fearing  he  would  do 
some  desperate  thing  !  She  started  to  her  feet 
with  the  swift  stab  of  shame.  No  need  now  to 
pray  that  he  might  be  comforted  !  Some  one  is 
coming !  She  hastily  thrust  the  paper  under  a 
pile  of  others,  as  if  it  could  betray  her,  thereby 
giving  Mr.  Kilburn  a  long  search  for  it,  when 
every  one  else  had  gone  to  bed.  .  The  white- 
cedar  water-pail  stood  brimming  on  the  corner 
table,  with  its  floating  cocoa-nut-shell  dipper,  just 
as  it  always  had  when  Fen  was  a  little  girl,  rush 
ing  in,  heated  and  thirsty,  from  a  frolic  in  the 
dusty  hay  with  Hiram,  and  had  to  stand  on  tip- 


200  GEMINI. 

toe  to  reach  it.  Instinctively  she  turns  to  it  now, 
to  hide  her  face  and  cool  her  dry  throat,  as  the 
boys  come  noisily  in  with  their  corn  ;  Mr.  Kilburn 
follows,  and  hands  her  a  bundle  from  home,  and 
then  Samanthy,  to  set  the  tea-table,  and  Cordelia 
to  help,  and  to  hang  around  her  friend.  The 
confusion  was  most  welcome,  and  enabled  Pen 
to  bear  her  usual  part  in  the  evening's  cheerful 
ness.  She  joined  in  the  corn-popping,  after 
supper,  with  a  dexterity  that  won  the  admiration 
of  the  children,  though  they  protested  that  she 
ate  very  little,  when  the  work  was  done.  How 
should  they  know,  that,  as  her  firm  hand  shook 
the  popper  steadily  to  and  fro  over  the  glowing 
embers,  the  regular  hissing  of  the  kernels  on  the 
wires  seemed  ever  singing  to  her  ears  a  monoto 
nous  refrain,  — "  John-Sted-man  —  Sa-rah-Tur- 
ner — John-Sted-man — Sa-rah-Tur-ner,"  till  she 
feared  she  should  call  the  words  aloud  ;  feared 
lest  Lally,  too,  should  hear  what  they  were 
saying. 


GEMINI.  201 

December  and  January  went  by  with  the  usual 
alternations  of  freezing  and  thawing,  snow,  rain, 
and  sunshine;  and  Lally's  cheeks  flushed  and 
paled,  and  her  spirits  rose  and  fell,  with  the 
capriciousness  of  her  disease. 

Pen  had  bound  her  own  new  pain  hand  and 
foot,  and  shut  it  away  in  the  innermost  chamber 
of  her  memory,  where  only  God  and  herself 
might  enter.  She  had  borne  unflinchingly  the 
trial  of  hearing  the  marriage  discovered  and 
discussed  by  Lally  and  Clary. 

"  Such  a  queer  match :  why,  she  was  always  as 
afraid  of  him  as  she  could  be ! " 

"  I  suppose  her  pretty  face  bewitched  him  :  he 
must  know  how  stupid  she  is." 

"  She  might  have  sent  us  cards  :  don't  you 
think  so,  Pen?"  &c. 

But  Lally  soon  forgot  all  about  it.  Nothing 
interested  her  long  now.  The  weather  was 
much  more  important  than  John  Stedman's 
marriage.  If  the  day  were  fair,  perhaps  Dr. 
Hopkins  or  Mr.  Kilburn  might  come  and  take 


202  GEMINI. 

her  to  drive,  or  she  might  hope  to  see  Cordelia 
or  Samanthy  coming  to  the  Hollow.  If  it 
stormed,  she  pined  for  the  old  home,  or  talked 
wistfully  of  how  brightly  the  sun  was  shining  in 
Norfolk,  —  crocuses  and  anemones  in  bloom, 
perhaps,  —  when  should  they  hear  again  from 
Aunt  Virginia  ?  When  would  this  weary  war 
be  over  ?  and  oh !  how  small  these  rooms  were  ! 
Why  had  they  ever  sold  the  old  place  ?  These 
homesick  longings  tortured  Pen  unspeakably 
when  they  were  vague  and  apparently  hopeless 
to  both  Lally  and  herself;  but  this  pain  was 
as  nothing  to  that  she  felt  when  Mr.  Kilburn 
made  known  his  wishes,  and  she  was  forced  to 
realize  that  "no"  to  him  would  disappoint  her 
darling  sister,  and  not  only  exile  them  both  for 
ever  from  the  old  home,  but  throw  the  blame  of 
such  banishment  upon  herself  alone. 

It  was  one  February  afternoon,  while  giving 
Lally  a  sleigh-ride,  that  the  minister  fully  ex 
plained  himself,  and  gave  her  a  letter  for  Pen, 
containing  a  formal  proposal,  and  the  request 


GEMINI.  203 

that  she  would  take  as  much  time  as  she  pleased 
to  consider  it.  "  You  want  to  marry  our  Pen  ? 
You?"  cried  Lally,  with  a  flash  of  her  old  eager 
ness,  when  with  some  stumbling,  and  in  reply 
to  some  loving  word  of  hers,  as  they  passed  the 
parsonage,  he  intimated  that  it  was  his  dearest 
wish  to  have  both  sisters  return  there,  and  that 
it  depended  only  on  Miss  Penny  to  name  the 
time  when  she  should  once  more  be  its  mistress. 
He  flushed  so  deeply  at  the  unconscious  scorn 
of  her  tone  and  glance,  that  she  checked  herself 
abruptly,  and  presently  stammered,  — 

"  Oh,  please  forgive  me !  but  you  know  she  is 
all  I  have;  and  I  never  dreamed  that  you  —  and 
I  don't  suppose  any  one  would  seem  to  me  quite 
good  enough  for  her." 

"  I  am  perfectly  aware  that  I  am  twenty  years 
older  than  your  sister,"  he  gravely  answered, 
accepting  her  apology  with  a  quiet  bow  ;  "  but  I 
hope  that  does  not  prevent  me  from  appreciating 
her  lovely  character,  or  render  me  incapable  of 
caring  for  her  happiness,  and  protecting  her,  and 
you  too,  from  the  hardships  of  life." 


204  GEMINI. 

Lally  was  hushed  into  embarrassed  silence,  as 
he  presently  continued  to  plead  his  cause  with 
an  earnest  eloquence  that  amazed  her,  urging 
the  love  and  preference  his  children  already  felt 
for  Pen,  the  advantages  to  both  families  of  keep 
ing  Samanthy  permanently,  the  added  comforts 
Lally  could  command  in  a  large  family  and 
house,  to  say  nothing  of  the  satisfaction  and 
approval  of  the  whole  parish  in  such  a  union. 
Moved  by  the  manly  sincerity  of  his  words  and 
face,  ashamed  of  her  own  rudeness,  half-con 
vinced  by  his  pleading,  Lally  said  not  a  word 
till  they  reached  the  house,  then,  as  he  lifted 
her  out,  and  fairly  carried  her  from  the  sleigh  to 
the  parlor,  he  whispered,  — 

"  You  will  give  her  my  letter  to-night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  oh  certainly,  — yes.' 

"  And  you  will  try  and  not  prejudice  her 
against  me  ? " 

"  I  will  try." 

Whereat  he  smiled  so  very  pleasantly,  and  set 
her  down  so  gently,  adding,  "Good-night,  then; 


GEMINI.  205 

you  are  sure  you  are  not  too  tired?"  that  im 
pulsive  Lally  changed  on  the  spot-  from  his 
judge  to  his  advocate,  wondered  that  she  had 
never  noticed  before  what  expressive  gray  eyes 
he  had,  and  thought,  "  Oh,  how  comfortable  it 
is  to  be  carried  when  one  is  tired !  How  nice 
and  strong  he  is !  " 


206  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

"With  such  causes  for  disquiet  in  her  young  heart  and  brain,  it  is 
not  then  wonderful  that  she  should  sometimes  be  unable  to  slip  across 
the  troubled  region  of  the  night  in  the  boat  of  her  dreams,  but  should 
suffer  shipwreck  on  the  waking  coast,  and  have  to  encounter  the  staring 
and  questioning  eyes  of  more  than  one  importunate  truth." 

Marquis  of  Lassie,  by  GEORGE  MACDONALD. 


warm,  damp  night  in  the  following 
April,  Pen  was  lying  awake,  thinking, 
or  rather  trying  not  to  think.  She  had  slept  off 
the  slight  physical  fatigue  of  a  day  indoors, 
having  been  prevented,  by  the  dislike  of  leaving 
Lally,  from  taking  the  out-door  exercise  which 
alone  could  insure  her  prolonged  unconscious 
ness. 

That  prisoned  pain  of  hers  was  stirring  now, 
requiring  to  be  fought  down  once  more.  Nor 
was  it  the  Past  alone  that  she  must  fight  :  her 
imagination  relentlessly  sketched  for  her  the 


GEMINI. 


207 


years  of  a  Future  -without  Lally.  How  could 
she  bear  them  ?  How  soon  would  they  begin  ? 
How  much  longer  could  the  Messenger  be  kept 
outside  ?  Was  it  not  in  April  their  mother  had 
been  called,  and  had  not  Dr.  Hopkins  said  that 
Lally  inherited  her  constitution  ?  Was  it  not 
already  April,  and  Lally  almost  as  old  as  her 
mother  had  been  ?  Had  Pen  done  all  she  could 
to  prolong  and  make  happy  her  sister's  life  ? 
Would  it  have  been  better  if  she  had  accepted 
Mr.  Kilburn  two  months  ago  ?  For  she  had 
refused  him  decidedly,  and  been  haunted  ever 
since  by  the  fear  that  both  Lally  and  Samanthy 
were  sorry  she  had  done  so.  To  make  matters 
worse,  the  minister  never  seemed  to  consider  the 
question  settled,  but  continued  to  pay  her  open 
attention  ;  and  had  said  to  her  only  the  day 
before,  —  "I  can't  give  you  up  so  easily.  I  am 
both  obstinate  and  patient.  I  will  not  hurry 
you  ;  but  I  must  hope  you  will  yet  be  kinder." 
Was  he  waiting  for  Lally' s  death  to  render  her 
so  lonely  she  should  not  care  what  she  did  ? 


208  GEMINI. 

Was  the  Hollow  an  unwholesome  place  ?  Would 
Lally  find  it  easier  to  breathe  on  higher  land, 
as  she  thought  she  should  ?  Or  would  a  journey 
South  be  possible  ?  If  Dr.  Hopkins  thought 
Florida  would  save  her,  surely  it  would  be  right 
to  take  the  principal  of  their  money !  No  mat 
ter  if  it  only  prolonged  her  life  a  few  years  ;  if 
those  years  were  comfortable,  Pen  would  gladly 
risk  all,  and  teach,  or  go  into  a  factory,  if  need 
were,  afterwards.  Afterwards !  Could  she, 
must  she,  live  afterwards  ?  And  what  if  pov 
erty  came  before  Lally  were  taken  ?  What 
whisper  was  that  she  had  heard  of  the  possible 
failure  of  the  savings-bank,  and  the  depreciation 
of  the  stocks  which  represented  their  little  all  ? 
Samanthy  was  old,  sewing  uncertain,  her  own 
health  not  infallible.  Lally  ought  to  have  the 
use  of  a  horse,  too,  and  the  help  of  strong  arms 
within  call.  Mr.  Kilburn  would  gladly  give  her 
both.  Pen  had  fully  expected  that  both  her 
sister  and  Samanthy,  to  say  nothing  of  Mrs. 
Flanders  and  Clary,  would  be  shocked  at  the 


GEMINI.  209 

idea  of  her  marrying  so  old  a  man  ;  but,  though 
in  some  way  they  all  knew  about  his  offer, 
no  such  feeling  had  ever  been  expressed.  On 
the  contrary,  she  was  sadly  sure  they  were 
all  sorry  when  she  refused  it.  Even  now,  Lally 
was  always  praising  him,  and  looking  wistful 
when  he  went  away.  "  Am  I  very  wicked,  un 
grateful,  selfish  ? "  cried  poor  Pen,  shedding  bitter 
tears  in  the  dark.  "  Shall  I  not  think  first  of 
her,  and  please  her  while  I  can  !  O  God  ?  show 
me  what  I  ought  to  do ! " 

Suddenly  Lally  started  up,  struggling,  as  she 
often  did,  with  some  frightful  dream,  panting  for 
breath. 

"  Oh,  the  shell !  the  shell !    Clayton  !  Clayton  ! " 

"  Here,  darling,"  cried  Pen,  soothing  and  sup 
porting  her.  "  Wake  up,  Lally  !  You  are  at  home 
with  me,  dear  !  " 

"  O  Pen,  is  it  you  ?  I  am  stifling  !  Open  the 
west  window,  please,  quick !  Let  me  feel  the 
air  right  from  Bald  Mountain.  It  seems  as  if  it 

would  do  me  good." 

14 


210  GEMINI. 

"  Bald  Mountain,  darling  ?  Why,  we  are  in  the 
Hollow,  —  don't  you  remember?  —  and  the  win 
dows  look  south." 

"  In  the  Hollow  ?  Oh,  that  is  why  I  cannot 
breathe !  This  room  is  so  low  and  so  little ! 
How  free  and  fresh  the  wind  used  to  be  at 
home ;  and  we  coukUsee  so  many  miles  away ! 
I  am  so  tired  of  looking  into  this  alder  brush, 
and  at  the  old  saw-mill.  They  are  too  near,  — 
they  press  upon  me,  Pen  !  Is  the  window  open  ? 
I  cannot  feel  any  breeze.  There  never  is  any 
here,  I  think.  Oh,  how  I  wish  we  were  little 
girls  again,  going  up  in  the  high  pasture  after 
raspberries  with  Hiram !  Oh,  how  sweet  the 
air  was,  and  how  well  and  strong  we  were ! " 

The  poor  girl  began  to  cry,  —  not  violently, 
but  softly,  forlornly,  and  hopelessly,  rending  Pen's 
heart  as  she  vainly  opened  windows  and  doors, 
tried  fanning  and  cologne,  and  heaped  up  all  the 
pillows.  At  last  Lally  felt  relieved,  and  thought 
she  could  sleep  once  more. 

"  But  promise  me  one  thing,  Pen,"  she  urged, 


GEMINI.  211 

as  she  sank  back  ;  "  one  thing  that  is  on  my 
mind,  and  if  you  say  '  yes '  I  will  never  speak  of 
it  again." 

"Tell  me,  dear:  if  I  possibly  can,  I  will." 
"  Promise  me,  then,  to  have  my  name  cut  on 
the  side  of  our  monument  that  is  towards  the 
South,  nearest  poor  Clayton,  and  what  he  loved 
and  died  for.  It  is  so  strange  Father  did  not 
think  to  have  Mother's  cut  there ;  but  her  name 
is  on  the  east  side,  and  his  is  on  the  north : 
strange  you  never  noticed  it,  Pen  !  and  you  will 
have  mine  as  I  say  ?  Now  I  breathe  better ;  lie 
down,  dear,  and  we  will  both  sleep  again  ; "  and 
she  did  indeed  fall  into  a  quiet  slumber,  but  there 
was  none  for  Pen.  Kneeling  beside  her  sister, 
she  prayed  long  and  earnestly  that  she  might  put 
self  aside,  and  live  only  for  Lally  ;  worn  out  with 
sorrow  and  watching  and  doubt, — her  mind 
weary  and  clouded  by  sleeplessness  and  distress 
—  was  it  strange  that  she  resolved  to  end  the 
struggle,  to  accept  Mr.  Kilburn,  and  that  she 
mistook  the  sense  of  rest  that  followed  for  the 


212  GEMINI. 

peace  of  an  approving  conscience  ?  "  I  asked  to 
be  shown,"  she  thought,  "and  that  moment  Lally 
waked,  and  cried  for  her  old  home.  Was  it  not 
a  sign  to  show  me  my  duty  ? " 
•  The  first  news  that  greeted  her,  after  breakfast, 
was  of  the  suspension  and  probable  failure  of  the 

G Bank,  and  she  knew  that  if  this  proved 

true  the  Florida  plan  would  be  impracticable, 
even  if  Dr.  Hopkins  approved.  It  was  Samanthy 
who  brought  the  report ;  and,  though  she  strove 
bravely  to  conceal  her  agitation  and  dismay,  Pen 
saw  that  she  was  greatly  shocked,  and  thought, 
"  I  can  give  her  a  good  home  if  I  choose,  and  do 
I  not  owe  it  to  her  ?  Surely  I  ought  to  be  happy 
if  I  can  please  Lally,  and  save  this  truest  of 
friends  from  an  old  age  of  struggle."  Then  she 
remembered  Hiram  ;  but,  in  her  present  morbid 
mogd,  it  was  easy  to  believe  that  he  would  die  as 
poor  Clayton  and  Beethoven  had,  or  that,  if  he 
.returned  safely,  he  would  marry  some  one  who 
would  be  ungracious  to  Samanthy.  Evil  was  far 
easier  to  fancy  than  good,  that  sultry,  foggy 


GEMINI.  213 

morning,  when  Lally  was  suffering  for  breath, 
and  too  languid  (for  the  first  time)  to  get  up  ; 
and  Samanthy's  face  looked  gray  with  anxiety ; 
and  Hiram's  usual  letter  had  been  overdue  for 
several  days.  About  eleven  o'clock,  Lally  felt 
better,  and  fell  asleep^  Samanthy  declared  that 
Pen  should  not  "  lift  a  finger  towards  gettin' 
dinner,  for  you  're  as  white  as  a  ghost,  and  may 
jest  go  straight  to  the  parlor  sofy  and  lay  down 
till  I  call  you.  You  don't  ketch  me  spendin' 
another  night  to  the  minister's,  not  if  Cordely 
drops  two  flat-irons  on  her  foot !  So  there ! 
Yes,  I  can  hear  Lally  ef  she  stirs,  an'  I  don't 
want  no  help.  It  '11  do  me  good  to  wrastle 
with  that  plaguey  cookin'  stove,  and  git  about . 
seven  different  kinds  of  stuff  started  to  wonst. 
I  '11  git  one  good  meal  o'  vittles,  ef  we  all  go  to 
the  county-farm  tomorrer,  onny  I  do  wish  I  hed 
the  man  that  built  that  chimbley,  and  them  there 
bank  directors  here,  an'  that  I  was  a  mashin'  'em 
all  up  under  this  iron  pestle,"  she  exclaimed, 
braying  fiercely  away  at  some  mace  in  her  mortar. 


214  GEMINI. 

"  Go  'long,  Penny,  an'  do  as  you  're  bid."  Won 
dering  at  the  elaborate  bill  of  fare  evidently  in 
progress,  but  anxious  to  write  her  letter  to  Mr. 
Kilburn,  and  send  it  before  another  night  of  self- 
reproach,  Pen  obeyed.  She  had  thought  over 
so  carefully  what  she  woujd  say,  in  her  morning 
vigil,  that  she  only  tore  up  two  beginnings,  and 
finally  wrote  as  follows  :  — 

"  DEAR  MR.  KILBURN,  —  If  you  do  indeed  care 
enough  for  me  to  make  me  your  wife,  when  I  can 
offer  you  only  respect,  gratitude,  and  allegiance  in 
return  ;  when  I  frankly  own  that  I  am  thinking  most 
of  my  sister's  comfort  and  happiness,  and  that  half 

of  our  little  property  is  now  in  peril  in  the  G 

Bank,  —  I  will  promise  to  be  a  faithful  wife  to  you, 
and  a  loving  mother  to  the  children.  If,  however, 
you  find  on  reflection  that  I  ask  too  much,  and 
offer  too  little,  I  shall  not  blame  you  for  withdrawing 
your  proposal. 

"  Yours  with  cordial  regard, 

"  PENSEROSA  MASON." 

Enveloping,  sealing,  and  addressing  this  letter, 
she  put  it  into  her  pocket,  lay  wearily  down,  and 
presently,  hearing  a  step  outside  and  a  careful 


GEMINI.  21$ 

knock,  thought,  "  It  is  Samanthy,  and  she  thinks 
I  have  been  sleeping  all  this  time."  Smiling 
rather  sadly,  she  rose  and  walked  towards  the 
door,  feeling  as  if  she  were  now  indeed  entering 
on  the  new  life  to  which  she  had  pledged  herself, 
leaving  behind  her  all  the  romance,  the  freedom, 
and  alas  !  the  truth,  of  her  girlhood.  Henceforth 
she  must  act  a  part,  live  a  lie  ;  but  it  was  in  a 
good  cause,  and  that  must  give  her  strength. 
The  door  opened  from  outside  as  her  hand 
touched  it,  and  there  stood  Hiram,  in  his  soldier 
dress,  straight,  bronzed,  beaming,  the  very  em 
bodiment  of  happy  old  times,  of  faithful  affection, 
of  strength,  and  truth,  and  safety,  —  holding  out 
both  eager  hands,  but  quite  speechless  with  joy. 


2l6  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

"  And  we  '11  all  be  gay 
When  Johnny  comes  marching  home." 

POPULAR  SONG. 

A  T  the  shock  of  this  unexpected  sight,  Pen 
wavered  visibly,  and  turned  so  pale  that 
Hiram  involuntarily  put  his  arms  around  her ; 
and,  as  for  a  moment  her  head  rested  on  his 
shoulder,  he  timidly  kissed  her  cheek,  uttering 
a  soft  little  inarticulate  note  of  tenderness,  such 
as  you  may  hear  a  mother  make  when  her  babe 
nestles  in  her  neck.  This  was  such  a  surprise 
to  both,  that  they  instantly  recovered  them 
selves,  and  went  quickly  into  the  kitchen  with 
flushed  cheeks  and  heads  unusually  erect.  There 
they  learned  that  Lally  was  so  delighted  by  the 
news  of  Hiram's  return,  that  she  was  dressing 


GEMINI.  2i; 

» 

to  come  down  to  dinner ;  and  Pen  going  to  help 
her,  and  Hiram  assisting  Samanthy  with  a  camp- 
acquired  skill,  which  even  she  acknowledged,  all 
four  were  soon  seated  around  the  table,  with  a 
sense  of  grateful  joy  in  their  re-union  which 
drove  away  all  anxiety,  gave  edge  to  their  ap 
petites,  and  made  them  talk  faster  and  more 
merrily  than  they  had  since  the  good  old  days 
before  Lally  went  to  Norfolk,  and  the  family 
changes  began. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  this  seems  like,"  cried 
Lally  at  last,  —  "  that  Thanksgiving  time  before 
the  war,  when  Samanthy  was  getting  well,  and 
we  were  so  glad  to  have  her  downstairs  again, 
and  Pen  and  I  were  so  proud  when  she  praised 
our  pies." 

"  How  odd  it  is,  Samanthy,"  said  Pen,  "  that 
you  should  have  happened  to  make  Hiram's 
favorite  '  pan-dowdy '  pudding  to-day,  and  have 
set  the  sponge  for  the  tea-cakes  he  used  to  ask 
for." 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  ownin'  up  now,  that  the 


2 1 8  GEMINI. 

Doctor  he  sent  me  word  this  mornin'  that  he  'd 
hed  a  telegraft,  sayin'  that  Miram  Jackson  was 
on  his  way  to  Beebury,  an'  he  kinder  mistrusted 
the  stoopid  folks  that  works  the  wires  must  a' 
meant  Hiram  Jackman  ;  but  I  worn't  a-goin'  to 
let  on  to  you  gals  afore  'twas  certain  sure." 

"  You  see,"  explained  Hiram,  "  our  Major 
Russell,  who  'most  died  of  Chickahominy  fever, 
was  able  to  bear  the  journey  home,  but  wasn't 
fit  to  travel  alone ;  and  so  I  was  detailed  to  take 
care  of  him  as  far  as  Boston,  and  allowed  a 
week's  leave  to  come  on  here  and  see  the  folks. 
We  come  along  by  easy  stages,  'count  o'  his 
bein'  so  weak,  an'  that  gave  me  a  chance,  Lally, 
to  see  Washington,  an'  —  where  else  do  you 
guess  ? " 

"O  Hiram!     Norfolk?" 

He  nodded. 

"  And  Aunt  Virginia  ?  "  she  added,  with  such 
carnation  cheeks  and  shining  eyes  that  Pen  and 
Samanthy  exchanged  glances  of  hope  and  ad 
miration. 


GEMINI.  219 

"  Now  you  've  guessed  it,  sure  enough,"  said 
Hiram;  "an"  you'd  better  believe  she  gave  me 
a  welcome  and  a  half!  Kep'  me  to  tea,  and 
asked  me  forty-'leven  questions  'bout  you  all ; 
an'  there  was  two  black  auntys  a-peekin'  in  the 
door-crack,  an'  wantin'  to  know  how  Miss  Lalla 
was,  an'  when  she  was  comin'  agin.  An'  after 
tea,  in  come  a  tall  black-eyed  man,  with  long 
gray  mustarchers,  makin'  himself  quite  free- 
an'-easy  like ;  an'  your  aunt  kind  o'  colored 
up,  an'  interduced  him :  now  guess  again, 
Lally ! " 

"  It  was  one  of  the  Navy- Yard  officers  !  " 

"  No,  'twas  an  army  man,  a  surgeon,  —  Union, 
too  ;  an'  his  name 's  Doctor  Stockbridge  ;  an', 
fust  thing  you  know,  he  '11  be  your  Uncle  Stock- 
bridge.  Certain,  true,"  he  added,  as  the  girls 
stared  at  him  and  each  other,  in  unbelieving 
surprise,  and  Samanthy  cried  "  Nonsense  !  " 

"  Your  aunty  told  me  so  herself,  an'  said  she  'd 
ben  meanin'  to  write  to  you  'bout  it  that  very 
night,  but  now  I  could  bring  the  news ;  an' 


220  GEMINI. 

here 's  a  little  note,  for  an  Amen  like,  to  clinch 
it,  I  s'pose." 

He  handed  Pen  a  rose-colored  billet ;  and 
Lally,  leaning  on  her  shoulder,  as  she  had 
when  the  first .  letter  came,  five  years  before, 
read  as  follows  :  — 

"  MY  DEAREST  GIRLS,—  It  is  indeed  true,  as  your 
excellent,  and  so  improved  friend  will  te.ll  you,  that 
your  foolish,  impulsive  Aunty  has  consented  to  give 
her  broken  remnant  of  a  heart  to  the  noblest  of  men. 
It  is  partly  your  fault,  you  darlings,  for  it  was  during 
my  visit  to  you  that  I  first  learned  to  love  the  North, 
and  to  appreciate  the  sterling  virtues  of  New-England 
character.  My  only  regret  is  the  thought  of  what/<?0r 
dear  Clayton  would  say  to  my  marrying  a  Union  officer  ; 
the  darling  fellow  was  such  an  inveterate  rebel,  and  ever 
blaming  my  lukewarmness  in  the  Cause,  as  he  would 
say.  And  yet  you  know  how  he  loved  you  ;  and  per 
haps  he  sees  more  clearly  now,  and  does  not  care  for 
the  old  distinctions.  My  motherly  heart  will  find 
some  consolation  in  these  new  ties,  for  Morris  (the 
Doctor)  has  two  sweet  daughters  at  home,  aged  fifteen 
and  seventeen,  besides  a  son  in  Europe.  I  long  to 
have  you  know  them  all.  You  cannot  fail  to  love 
each  other ;  and,  when  this  cruel  war  is  quite  over, 
I  shall  hope  to  see  you  in  our  Philadelphia  home. 


GEMINI.  »  221 

With  best  regards  to  good   Dr.  and  Mrs.  Hopkins, 
and  your  faithful  Samantha, 

"I  am  unchangeably 

"  Your  fond  Aunt, 

"  VIRGINIA." 

Nor  was  this  all  that  Hiram  brought.  After 
consultation  with  Pen,  and  making  sure  that  it 
would  give  Lally  more  pleasure  than  pain,  he 
produced  from  the  inner  compartment  of  his 
pocket-book  a  cluster  of  tiny  pressed  clover- 
leaves  and  grasses  from  Clayton's  grave,  which 
he  had  sought  out  and  visited  for  her  sake  ;  and 
when  his  trunk  came  there  were  presents  for  all. 
For  Samanthy,  a  "case  of  English  scissors,  of  five 
sizes  ;  for  Pen,  a  gold  thimble,  and  a  copy  of 
Jean  Ingelow's  poems ;  for  Lally,  a  white  Shet 
land  shawl,  and  a  drippingly  fresh-looking  colored 
print  of  water-lilies  on  a  blue  background.  His 
gratitude  and  deep  satisfaction  when  he  saw  what 
pleasure  his  gifts  gave,  was  a  touching  sight ; 
and,  when  Pen  said,  for  the  third  time,  "  Howcottld 
you  know  so  well  what  we  all  liked  and  wanted  ? " 


222  GEMINI. 

he  confessed  that  it  had  been  the  comfort  of 
many  a  wet  or  half-frozen  hour  of  sentry  duty  to 
plan  what  he  would  take  to  them  if  he  lived  to 
get  his  pay  and  return.  "  I  've  ground  S'man- 
thy's  shears  too  many  times  not  to  know  what 
store  she  sets  by  sharp  scissors,  an'  don't  you 
'member  my  steppin'  on  your  little  silver  thim 
ble  long  ago,  Penny,  or  don't  you  s'pose  I  Ve 
noticed  how  you  always  cut  out  pieces  with  that 
name  in  the  paper  ?  The  minit  I  saw  them  lilies 
I  thought  of  Long  Pond,  an'  how  Lally  usedter 
love  to  go  there  for  'em." 

In  listening  to  Hiram's  army  stories^  and  in 
answering  his  many  questions  of  village  friends, 
the  afternoon  and  evening  passed  happily  and 
swiftly  away,  around  a  snapping  wood-fire  in  the 
little  parlor  they  shared  with  Mrs.  Flanders  and 
Clary.  At  nine  o'clock,  Lally  declared  that  she 
felt  as  if  she  had  been  to  three  sewing-circles 
and  a  quilting-bee,  and  must  go  to  bed  ;  Mrs. 
Flanders  and  Clary  said  good-night  too,  and  Pen 
was  about  following  her  sister,  when  Samanthy 
said,  — 


GEMINI.  223 

"  I  've  got  bread  to  mix,  Penny,  an'  ef  you  '11 
set  with  Hiram  till  I  come  back  I  c'n  see  to  all 
Lally  wants  to  the  same  time,  an'  then  we  three '11 
hev  a  spell  more  o'  talk  ;  nine  o'clock  ain't  sleepy- 
time  for  well  folks,  specially  when  they  've  got  a 
year's  doin's  to  simmer  over." 

"  But  her  medicine,  and  the  night-lamp,  and 
the  window,"  demurred  Pen. 

"  Now,  Penny  Mason  !  jest  as  ef  I  couldn't  do 
all  thet  as  well  as  you !  Don't  you  be  so  dretfle 
set.  Ef  you  don't  look  out  you  '11  get  to  be  as 
fussy-partic'lar  as  ol'  Seth  Eaton." 

"  Why,  what  did  he  do  ? "  laughed  Pen,  sub 
mitting  to  be  pushed  down  into  the  easy-chair 
Lally  had  left. 

"  Oh,  he  allers  dipped  his  ol'  cat  into  a  pail  o' 
water  afore  he  put  her  oud'  doors  at  night,  for 
fear  she  'd  set  the  buildin's  a-fire  with  the  sparks 
in  her  fur." 

So  Hiram  and  Pen  remained ;  and,  in  the 
silence  that  fell  upon  them,  she  suddenly  re 
membered  the  letter  in  her  pocket. 


224  GEMINI. 

It  seemed  a  year  since  she  had  written  it, — 
so  far  had  the  healthy  happiness  of  the  afternoon 
driven  back  the  memory  of  those  hours  of  mor 
bid  strain.  "  I  must  do  it  before  I  sleep,"  she 
thought.  "  Hiram's  coming  makes  no  real  dif 
ference  ;  for  his  kindness  cannot  cure  Lally,  or 
alter  my  duty  to  her,"  and,  with  desperate  res 
olution,  she  drew  out  the  letter,  and,  trying  to 
speak  carelessly,  said, — 

"  O  Hiram,  if  you  are  going  to  sleep  at  the 
Doctor's,  will  it  be  much  trouble  to  leave  this 
note  for  me  as  you  go  by  ? " 

"'Twon't  be  any  Hiram  that  I  ever  heerd  on  ef . 
your  arrands  is  any  trouble,"  he  returned,  leaning 
forward  to  take  it,  and  smiling  in  her  face.  One 
who  loved  her  less  might  not  have  -seen  the 
hunted  look  in  her  eyes,  the  rigid  pallor  round  her 
mouth  ;  but  Hiram  did,  and  involuntarily  glanced 
at  the  address  on  the  letter  for  explanation. 
"  Rev.  Caleb  Kilburn "  ?  Could  it  be  that  he 
owed  the  girls  for  the  rent  of  the  parsonage  ? 
No:  Hiram  was  quite  sure  they  had  sold  it  to  the 


GEMINI.  225 

parish,  and  had  had  no  business  dealings  with 
the  minister.  Why  should  Pen  write  to  him  ? 
A  sealed  letter,  too  ;  no  mere  note  about  Sa- 
manthy's  coming  or  going  :  a  message  or  a  note 
to  Cordelia  would  have  been  enough  for  that 
Hiram  stood  thinking,  frowning  at  the  fire,  and 
Pen  sat  silently  trembling,  her  security  in  the 
righteousness  of  her  decision  growing  weaker 
every  instant,  as  she  seemed  to  see  it  in  the  light 
o'f  Hiram's  honest  good  sense.  Suddenly  a  thrill 
of  intelligence  went  through  him.  "  Was  this 
what  the  jokers  at  the  post-office  had  meant  when 
they  greeted  his  arrival  that  morning,  and  hoped 
he  hadn't  stayed  away  too  long,  and  one  had 
asked  if  he  'd  come  home  to  the  wedding  ?  It 
could  not  be !  His  Penny,  whom  he  had  wor 
shipped  at  such  a  distance,  won  by  that  old 
hypocrite  of  a  widower !  She  never  could !  And 
yet  —  why  this  letter,  this  agitation?"  As  these 
thoughts  scorched  him,  he  felt  that  he  must 
know  all,  and  at  once.  He  turned  upon  her 

almost  fiercely ;  bashfulness,  civility,  discretion, 
'5 


226  GEMINI. 

—  all  consumed  in  a  moment  by  his  jealous  love, 
his  care  for  her  happiness. 

"  Why  do  you  write  to  him,  Penny  ?  "  he  began 
abruptly.  "  Is  it  true  what  those  fools  in  the 
village  hinted  to  me,  that  this  sneaking  parson 
wants  you  for  —  for"  —  he  stamped  his  foot, 
he  could  not  say  wife  — "  for  a  step-mother  to 
his  childun,  when  their  own  hasn't  ben  dead  a 
year,  —  poor  drudge  that  she  was  !  " 

"  Hiram,  you  must  not  speak  so  !  "  cried  Pen, 
with  a  desperate  attempt  at  dignified  reproach ; 
then  suddenly  breaking  down  and  covering  her 
face,  as  she  met  his  searching  glance,  at  once 
wrathful  and  loving. 

"  I  know  I  'm  rude,  Penny,  but  I  can't  help  it : 
I  must  know.  Your  father  always  said  I  was  to 
look  after  his  girls  ;  an'  I  've  a  right  to  know  if 
you  've  bin  an'  promised  yourself  away,  all  out  of 
your  tender-heartedness,  that  couldn't  never  say 
'  no  '  to  a  dog,  if  he  wanted  the  dinner  off  your 
very  plate." 

"  Hush,  Hiram ! "  she  replied,  rising,  and  recov- 


GEMINI.  227 

ering  herself  somewhat :  "  you  forget  that  I  am 
a  woman  now,  and  can  take  care  of  myself.  I 
know  you  are  the  faithfulest  of  friends  ;  but  I 
must  decide  this  alone.  Mr.  Kilburn  is  a  good, 
honorable  man,  who  can  take  better  care  of  Lally 
and  me  than  we  can  of  ourselves." 

Hiram  flung  up  his  hand  in  denial ;  but  she 
went  steadily  on,  though  the  flashing  reproach 
of  his  honest  gray  eyes,  usually  so  shyly  down 
cast,  was  hard  to  meet. 

"  He  has  cared  for  me  a  long  time,  and  been 
very  patient  and  unselfish  about  it," — Hiram 
smiled  bitterly,  —  "  and  thereby  won  my  entire 
confidence  and  respect  ;  and  so  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  "  — 

"  To  have  him  ?  And  you  Ve  told  him  so  in 
this?"  cried  Hiram,  at  the  end  of  his  self-con 
trol,  holding  the  letter  at  arm's  length. 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  here  it  goes  !  "  he  cried,  and  threw  it 
into  the  hottest  part  of  the  glowing  embers, 
stamping  it  among  them  with  a  fierce  and  reck- 


228  GEMINI.  .    ' 

less  foot.  "And  now,  Penny  Mason,"  —  he  folded 
his  arms  and  turned  upon  her  —  "  even  if  you 
hate  me  forever,  I  will  tell  you  the  whole  truth 
to-night.  Ever  sence  you  was  a  little  mite  of  a 
girl,  you  've  ben  too  willin'  to  lay  yourself  down 
for  Lally  to  walk  on.  The  best  clo'es,  an'  the 
biggest  apple,  an'  the  easiest  seat,  must  allers  be 
Lally's,  an'  any  thin'  at  all  was  good  enough  for 
you,  you  thought ;  an'  you  wouldn't  hurt  nobody's 
feelin's,  no  matter  how  they  put  upon  you.  I  've 
watched  you  your  whole  life  long,  and  so 's 
Samanthy,  an'  many 's  the  time  you  'd  a-hed 
nothin'  ef  we  hadn't  a-looked  out  for  your  rights. 
Now,  do  you  suppose,  jest  because  you  're  a  woman 
grown,  an'  the  things  you  've  got  to  deal  with  are 
bigger  an'  more  serious-like  than  apples,  an'  gowns, 
an'  all  that,  that  we  're  enny  more  a-goin'  to  let  you 
give  up,  an'  be  walked  over  by  every  selfish  creetur 
that  comes  whinin'  round  ?  -No,  I  tell  you  !  " 

He  paused  an  instant,  out  of  breath ;  and 
Pen  hurried  to  say, — 

"  Samanthy  approves  of  Mr.  Kilburn." 


GEMINI.  229 

"  Then  Samanthy  's  in  her  dotage,  an'  I  've  got 
her  to  tutor  too,"  he  retorted  ;  and,  wiping  his 
flushed  face,  went  on.  "  She 's  mebbe  led  away, 
as  the  best  o'  women  will  be,  by  the  idee  of  a 
good  house,  an'  lots  of  furnishin',  an'  bein'  the 
minister's  wife,  an'  the  leadin'  lady  in  the  perrish, 
an'  all  that ;  but  I  know  better.  It  sounds 
dretful  rich  an'  easy,  I  know ;  but  there 's  hard 
work,  an'  long  days,  an'  settin'  up  to  mend  o' 
nights,  an'  tendin'  sick  childun,  an'  waitin'  on  no 
end  o'  visitors,  an'  bein'  pecked  and  pried  at,  an' 
like  as  not  turned  out  to  seek  your  fortin'  some- 
wheres  else,  jest  as  you  think  you  're  settled  for 
life.  And  you  ain't  cut  out  for  nobody's  drudge, 
Penny ;  you  ain't  none  o'  these  snappy,  wiry 
ones,  that'll  answer  back,  an'  hold  their  own. 
It  wouldn't  take  many  ugly  words  nor  hard  looks 
to  break  your  sperrits.  Ef  I  b'lieved  you  raly 
an'  truly  loved  that  man,  I  'd  hold  my  tongue, 
an'  try  to  bear  it ;  for  love  '11  carry  sech  as  you 
over  burnin'  mountings.  But  you  don't  show  no 
signs  of  it,  Penny :  you  're  too  honest  to  purtend 


230  GEMINI. 

it.  An'  ef  you  could  make  up  that  sweet  mouth 
o'  yourn  to  enny  sech  story,  I  should  find  you 
out  in  a  minnit ;  for  I  know  too  much,  by  my 
own  feelin's,  what  the  real  thing  is.  Yes,  Penny ; 
now  I  'ye  got  goin',  I  '11  say  right  straight  out 
what  you  know  a' ready  ;  an'  that  is,  that  I  've 
loved  you  a  sight  better  than  my  life,  as  long 
as  you  can  remember.  There  ain't  enny  pain  I 
wouldn't  go  through  to  please  you ;  an'  God 
knows  I  most  forgit  Him,  when  I  git  thinkin'  of 
you.  There  ain't  a  word  nor  a  look  you  've  ever 
give  me  that  I  don't  remember ;  an'  yet  I  swear 
to  you  I  never  once  dreamed  of  askin'  you  to 
give  me  any  thin'  but  friendly  kindness.  I  ain't 
so  stupid  as  to  s'pose  I  could  make  you  happy, 
when  all  your  ways  an'  feelin's  is  so  difrunt ;  an' 
I  've  made  up  my  mind  to  take  my  comfort  in 
givin',  an'  not  in  receivin',  so  .long's  I  live. 
Amen."  Pen  was  crying  now,  and  had  sat  down 
again.  .  "  Now,  do  you  s'pose,  feelin'  that  way,  that 
I  c'n  stan'  still,  an'  see  you  throw  yourself  away 
on  somebody  else,  who  hain't  known  you  two 


GEMINI.  23 1 

years,  whose  fust  wife  ain't  hardly  cold,  who  's 
too  old  to  drorr  out  your  nat'ral  affections,  —  an 
ol'  cut-an'-dried  codger,  who  '11  be  havin'  a  wig 
an'  false  teeth  'fore  you're  thirty,  —  an'  all  be 
cause  he's  sneak  enough  to  come  whinin'  round 
when  you  're  kinder  low  an'  helpless,  an'  he 's  got 
eyes  to  see  that  you  're  the  pootiest  an'  best  girl 
in  the  perrish,  an'  knows  you  're  soft-hearted 
too  ?  O'  course  not  !  You  think  he  '11  break  his 
heart,  I  s'pose,  ef  you  say  '  No.'  I  tell  you,  he  '11 
suit  himself  with  the  fust  good-lookin'  widder  that 
chooses  to  set  her  cap  at  him.  Never  you  bother 
your  tender  little  heart  'bout  his  sufferin's ! " 
Hiram  had  tried  to  adopt  a  lighter  tone,  as  he 
saw  that  Pen  had  been  deeply  moved  by  his  con 
fession  ;  and  he  now  sat  silent  until  she  spoke. 

"  I  ought  to  be  angry  with  you,  Hiram,  for 
burning  my  letter,"  she  said,  at  last ;  "  but  you 
have  been  too  good  to  me  all  my  life.  I  can 
write  another,  but  I  am  willing  to  talk  it  over 
with  you  first.  Don't  you  see  how  Lally  is  pining 
in  this  shut-in  Hollow,  and  little  close  rooms  ? 


232  GEMINI. 

She  is  wearing  her  heart  out  with  home-sickness 
for  the  old  place,  and  she  needs  a  strong  man's 
care,  and  the  use  of  .a  horse,  and  cheerful  com 
pany,  and  many  other  things  which  she  could 
have  if  Mr.  Kilburn  were  her  brother.  You  have 
seen  her  at  her  best  to-day,  and  you  don't  real 
ize  how  sick  she  is,  and  how  she  longs  to  be  on 
the  Hill." 

"  An'  is  his  house  the  only  one  on  the  hill, 
Penny  Mason  ?  Ain't  there  other  bosses,  an' 
other  strong  arms,  —  arms  that  has  carried  her 
when  she  was  a  little,  teenty  girl,  an'  has  a  right 
to  do  it  ?  Finds  it  close  here  in  the  Holler, 
does  she?  That's  nat'ral  enough;  I  never  did 
see  what  ol'  Flanders  wanted  to  build  here 
for  :  but,  bless  you  !  there  's  lots  o'  other  houses 
where  there  's  good  air,  —  Mis'  Buttrick's  now. 
You  know  she  'd  jump  at  the  chance  o'  havin'  you 
an'  Lally,  an'  Samanthy  too,  to  keep  her  comp'ny ; 
an'  better  for  Lally,  too,  than  to  be  helpin'  Clary 
here  to  mourn  over  Beethoven,  an'  so  keep  her 
own  sorrers  alive.  I  '11  go  up  there  £ust  thing 


GEMINI.  233 

to-morrer,  Penny,  ef  you  '11  say  the  word,  an'  ask 
her  ef  she  don't  want  to  let  you  a  couple  o'  rooms 
for  the  summer ;  an'  then  we  '11  git  Lally  up 
there  to  spend  the  day,  an'  ef  she  likes,  as  I  'm 
certin  sure  she  will,  why  she  c'n  stay  right  along, 
an'  Samanthy  an'  I  '11  see  to  movin'  the  things 
up  next  day.  The  fresh  air  there  '11  set  her  up 
in  no  time :  you  see  ef  it  don't,  an'  we  '11  have  her 
pickin'  up  her  appetite  and  color  fast !  They  've 
got  two  hosses,  an'  ef  /  was  a  girl  I  b'lieve  I 
should  full  ruther  be  lifted  round  by  Uncle  Si' 
Buttrick  than  by  some  other  folks  I  c'd  men 
tion." 

"  O  Hiram  !  "  cried  Pen,  "  it  is  a  beautiful 
plan  !  Why  have  I  never  thought  of  it  before  ? 
When  I  kept  school  there,  I  used  to  think  the 
air  was  twice  as  good  as  anywhere  else,  and  the 
smell  of  the  hemlock  woods  was  so  sweet,  she 
will  be  sure  to  like  it ;  but  there 's  another 
thing,  —  what  about  the  Bank,  Hiram  ?  If  we 
lose  our  money,  we  can't  afford  to  pay  for  rooms 
there,  or  anywhere  else."  Her  momentary  relief 
gave  way  to  the  old  anxiety. 


234  GEMINI. 

"  Don't  you  holler  'fore  you  're  hurt,  Penny. 
'Tain't  no  ways  sure  that  'tis  goin'  to  fail,  an'  ef 
it  does  you  won't  likely  lose  more  'n  half ;  an' 
Mis'  Buttrick  '11  ask  less  than  Mis'  Flanders,  bein' 
so  out  o'  the  village  ;  an'  there  's  the  school  so 
handy,  ef  you  should  teach  you  'd  be  close  to 
Lally  all  the  time,  don't  you  see  ?  An'  ef  hard 
times  do  come,  Penny,  don't  you  really  think 
you  'd  ruther  have  ol'  fam'ly  friends  like  Saman- 
thy  an'  me  to  stan'  by  to  help  a  little,  'stid  o' 
givin'  yourself  away  for  life  an'  all  to  a  stranger  ? 
Wouldn't  it  be  a  little  like  Esau  sellin'  his  birth 
right  for  a  mess  o'  pottage  ?  I  'd  set  more  store 
by  myself  than  that  comes  to  ef  I  was  a  high- 
toned,  good-lookin',  edicated  girl  like  you,  'pears 
to  me  ;  an'  s'posin'  that  the  worst  of  all  that 
you  're  afraid  of  comes  true,"  he  added  more  sol 
emnly,  "  an'  Lally  's  called  to  foller  your  father, 
do  you  think  she  'd  like  to  look  down,  an'  see 
you  a  kind  o'  a  bond-slave,  jest  for  her  sake  ? 
Ain't  it  makin'  her  out  dretful  selfish  to  think 
she  'd  take  a  few  creeter  comforts  at  the  price  o' 


GEMINI.  235 

your  liberty,  not  to  say  honesty ;  for  you  know 
it 's  no  more  nor  less  than  a  lie  when  a  girl  mer 
ries  that  way.  It  goes  awful  hard  with  me  to 
k  vex  you  so,  Penny,  an'  make  you  blush  an'  cry, 
an'  I  never  would  a-b'lieved  I  could  a-done  it ; 
but  we  've  got  to  fight  this  thing  out,  now  we  've 
begun  it.  An'  there  's  two  things  more  I  've  got 
to  tell  you  ;  one  is,  that  ef  you  do  merry  the 
minister,  an'  Lally  don't  live,  you  '11  allers  have 
a  feelin'  that  whatever  goes  wrong  with  you  is 
kinder  her  fault :  you  '11  think,  '  Ef  it  hadn't  a-ben 
for  her  this  wouldn't  be  thus  an'  so.'  It  '11  be 
like  havin'  a  grudge  agin'  her  as  long  as  you  live, 
an'  that  ain't  the  way  you  wanter  feel  to'ards 
enny  one  that 's  dead  an'  gone." 

"  Hiram  !  —  Hiram  !  "  begged  the  girl  ;  but, 
though  she  was  crying  bitterly,  she  knew  he  was 
right. 

"  Onny  one  word  more,  Penny,  an'  that 's 
this :  this  war  's  'bout  over,  an'  soon  I  shall  be 
comin'  home  for  good  an'  all,  with  two  strong 
arms,  an'  a  lot  o'  money  in  the  Bank,  an'  a  good 


236     ,  GEMINI. 

trade  besides  my  farmin'  work  to  depend  on,  an' 
only  one  wish  in  life,  an'  that  is  to  do  for  you 
an'  Lally  as  faithful  an'  true  as  ef  you  was  my 
own  little  sisters,  an'  askin'  nothin'  but  good 
will,  so  help  me  God,  an'  that  you  '11  forgive  all 
the  rough  words  I  Ve  said  to  you  this  night." 
Pen  sat  silent,  her  face  covered.  "I  'm  goin" 
now,  Penny,"  he  said,  rising.  "  Give  me  your 
hand  for  good-night  an'  good-will,  ef  you  can  ; 
but,  however  you  feel  to'ards  me,  for  God's 
sake,  for  the  sake  o'  your  father  and  mother,  who 
did  love  each  other,  don't  go  an'  throw  yourself 
away  on  this  man." 

He  went  slowly  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and 
went  out  ;  but,  before  he  could  close  it,^Pen 
sprang  up,  dashed  away.her  tears,  and,  following, 
gave  him  her  hand,  saying,  — 

"  I  am  not  angry  with  you,  Hiram ;  I  thank 
you  for  your  faithfulness,  and  I  will  at  least 
promise  you  that  I  will  not  write  another  letter 
without  telling  you  ;  and  —  and  —  will  you  go 
and  see  Mrs.  Buttrick' to-morrow?" 


GEMINI.  237 

"  You  'd  better  b'lieve  I  will,"  he  responded 
heartily,  clasping  her  hand  till  she  winced. 
"  Now  you  go  right  off  to  bed,  Penny,  an'  don't 
worry  your  dear  little  head  'bout  enny  thin'. 
I  '11  fix  it  all:  you  see  ef  I  don't.  Good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  she  said,  really  smiling  at  last, 
and  went  back  into  the  parlor.  He  paused  a 
moment  in  the  passage.  Just  here  they  had- 
stood  that  noon,  when  for  one  instant  she  had 
leaned  upon  him,  and  he  had  dared,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  to  kiss  her ;  he  was  thinking  of 
it  now,  —  he  would  think  of  it  to  his  dying  hour 
as  the  happiest  moment  of  his  life,  —  but  only  to 
nerve  himself  for  a  future  of  disinterested  devo 
tion  ;  and,  when  he  presently  let  himself,  out  at 
the  front  door,  and  walked  away  between  the 
bare,  sighing  alder-bushes  which  hedged  the 
road,  his  square-cut,  sun-burned  face  was  fairly 
noble,  with  its  steadfast  look  of  self-forgetting 
resolution. 


238  GEMINI. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

"  Who  would  have  thought  my  shrivelled  heart 

Could  have  recovered  greenness  ?     It  had  gone 
Quite  underground,  —  as  flowers  depart 

To  see  their  mother-root,  when  they  have  blown  ; 
Where  they  together, 
All  the  cold  weather, 
Dead  to  the  world,  keep  house  alone. 

Grief  melts  away 

Like  snow  in  May, 

As  if  there  were  no  such  cold  thing." 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 

r  I^WO  days  after  this  conversation,  Lally  sat 
watching  the  sunset  from  the  windows  of 
Mrs.  Buttrick's  great  square  "  parlor-chamber." 

"  It 's  an  old  story  to  you,  Pen,  dear,  for  I 
know  you  've  spent  weeks  and  weeks  here  when 
you  had  the  school  ;  but  I  never  lived  so  high, 
or  had  such  a  glorious  view  to  feast  my  eyes 
upon  all.  day.  These  miles  and  miles  of  hem 
lock  woods  and  grand  old  mountains,  looking 


GEMINI.  239 

over  each  other's  shoulders  as  far  as  I  can  see, 
seem  as  solemn  and  beautiful  as  the  cathedrals 
one  reads  about.  It  will  be  easy  to  die  here, 
though  really  I  feel  more  like  living  just  now. 
How  peaceful  it  is,  and  yet  not  lonely !  I  can 
only  see  two  roofs,  and  they  look  more  like 
beehives  than  any  thing  else.  Pen,  how  kind, 
and  yet  how  funny,  Mrs.  Buttrick  is !  Almost 
as  bracing  as  our  Samanthy.  I  know  I  shall 
like  staying  here ;  and  really,  I  fancy  you  look 
better  for  the  change,  Pen.  You  must  feel  a 
difference  in  the  air.  How  could  we  have  lived 
in  that  Hollow  so  long  ?  I  don't  want  to  be 
ungrateful ;  but  do  you  know,  I  was  getting  a 
little  sick  of  Mrs.  Flanders's  whiny-piny  voice 
and  flattering  ways  ?  Clary  is  nice,  of  course  ; 
but  her  mother's  way  of  putting  her  head  on 
one  side,  and  sighing  out,  —  'Feel  poorly,  don't 
ye,  dear  ? '  made  me  so  nervous,  you  can't  think ! 
And  her  little  cackling  laugh  was  just  as  bad. 
Yes,  I  know  it 's  mean  of  me,  Pen  ;  but  what 's 
the  use  of  being  an  invalid  if  you  can't  say  just 


240  GEMINI. 

what  you  please  ?  And  so  I  'm  going  to  shock 
you  still  more,  and  confess  that  I  'm  glad  to  get 
away  from  the  Kilburns  too.  I  didn't  mind 
Cordelia,  though  I  can't  say  I  like  her  as  well 
as  you  do  ;  but  the  boys  were  getting  altogether 
stoo  free  at  our  rooms,  —  running  in  and  out,  and 
slamming  the  doors,  whenever  they  wanted  any 
thing  of  Samanthy.  By  the  way,  she  can't  be 
forever  going  over  there,  now  that  we're  three 
miles  away  ;  and  that 's  another  mercy  !  " 

"  But  you  always  said  you  liked  the  minister, 
and  how  nicely  he  lifted  you  in  and  out  of  the 
wagon,"  said  Pen,  rising  to  arrange  the  knotted 
white  curtains  behind  her  sister. 

"  Oh,  yes !  so  he  did ;  but  that  was  before 
Hiram  came.  Hiram  does  it  a  great  deal  better : 
he  is  so  much  stronger.  And  then,  you  know, 
he  is  really  one  of  the  family  ;  and  it  seems 
twice  as  easy  and  natural  to  call  on  him.  What 
a  dear,  good  fellow  he  is,  Pen :  isn't  he  ? " 

"  He  is  the  best  friend  we  have  in  the  world ! " 
cried  Pen,  with  a  fervor  that  rather  surprised 


GEMINI.  241 

Lally.  She  would  have  been  still  more  startled, 
could  she  have  known  how  wildly  her  sister's 
heart  was  throbbing  with  relief  and  gratitude  and 
self-shame,  as  she  remembered  from  what  Hiram 
had  saved  her. 

Happy  days  followed  in  the  red  house  on  the 
mountain-side ;  days  in  which  Lally  gained  in 
strength  and  cheerfulness  in  the  keen,  sweet 
air;  and  therefore  Pen's  heart  must  rejoice, 
although  Hiram  returned  to  his  regiment  for 
a  while,  and  the  terrible  news  came  of  the  mur 
der  of  Lincoln  the  Good. 

Peace  had  come,  summer  was  coming,  Lally 
was  contented  and  comfortable,  the  Bank  sus 
pended,  but  did  not  fail,  Mr.  Kilburn  ceased  to 
importune,  and  Pen's  calm  sweet  face  beamed 
from  morning  till  night  with  joy  and  gratitude 
unspeakable.  She  and  Lally  wrote  a  letter  of 
loving  congratulation  to  Aunt  Virginia,  and, 
before  June  had  passed,  received  wedding-cards, 
and  a  photograph  of  their  new  uncle,  which 

prepossessed   them  in  his  favor.     The  passing 
16 


242  GEMINI. 

neighbor  who  brought  them  this  package  from 
the  post-office  was  still  lingering  at  the  gate 
with  Mrs.  Buttrick,  when  the  girls  and  Samanthy 
had  finished  their  study  of  cards  and  picture  ; 
causing  the  latter  to  remark,  as  she  resumed  her 
rag-braiding,  — 

"  Time  don't  seem  to  be  of  no  account  to 
Deacon  Sawyer  this  arternoon.  His  hoss  has 
nigh-about  et  up  two  laylock  bushes,  an'  there 
the  ol'  man  sets,  a-noddin'  his  head,  an'  a-layin' 
down  the  law  'bout  somethin'  amazin,  jedgin'  by 
the  way  Mis'  Buttrick 's  a-holdin'  up  her  han's, 
an'  drinkin'  of  it  in." 

Even  as  she  spoke,  the  deacon  gave  the  reins 
a  jerk  and  a  flop,  detached  old  Sorrel  from  the 
mutilated  lilac,  and  presently  Mrs.  Buttrick  was 
heard  puffing  up  the  stairs. 

"  For  the  Luddy-massy,  gals !  who  do  you 
think 's  goin'  to  be  married  now  ?  I  never  was 
so  beat  ;  an'  ef  it  hadn't  a-been  Deacon  Sawyer, 
I  donno  as  I  'd  a-believed  it !  But  he  says  he  sor 
her  himself,  onny  last  night ;  an'  he  says  she 's 


GEMINI.  243 

as  pleased  as  a  hen  with  her  fust  chickens,  sim- 
perin'  an'  tippin'  her  head  to  one  side  like  a 
young  gal,  an'  she  goin"  on  forty-five,  as  I  know 
for  sure  by  her  own  sampler  !  " 

"Who?  Who,  Mrs.  Buttrick?"  cried  Lally. 
"Now  don't  say  it's  'Lecty  Sage,  or  I  shall 
never  feel  sure  that  Samanthy  won't  go  and  do 
likewise." 

"  You  've  got  to  come  nearer  home,  Lally. 
But  there,  I  can't  stan'  it  to  wait  for  you  to 
guess  :  my  flats  is  coolin'  now.  Wai,  it 's  the 
Widder  Flanders,  sure 's  you  live  and  breathe  !  " 

The  verity  of  the  latter  part  of  her  illustration 
was  not  apparent  at  first  ;  for  Samanthy  and  the 
girls  literally  held  their  breath,  as  they  looked 
at  her  and  at  each  other  with  wide  eyes  of 
utter  amazement.  Samanthy  rallied  first,  and 
gasped, — 

"  No  fool  like  an  old  fool !  Who  's  the  man, 
for  the  land's  sake?" 

"  Somebuddy  else's  leavin's,  ef  all  the  say-soes 
are  true,"  replied  Mrs.  Buttrick,  winking  at  Pen, 


244  GEMINI. 

whose  cheeks  flamed  suddenly  with  a  recollection 
of  Hiram's  prophecy. 

"  Yes,  you  've  guessed  it,  —  Elder  Kilburn,  no 
less !  An'  not  an  onsuitable  match,  come  to 
think  on  't,  is  it  ?  Nat'rally,  he  wants  somebuddy 
to  fly  round  an'  fetch  up  them  childun,  an'  keep 
things  tidy ;  an'  he  's  got  sense  enough  to  know 
that  ef  he  can't  git  fust  best,  half  a  loaf 's  better 'n 
no  bread,  —  hey,  Penny  ?  " 

"  All  well  enough  for  him,  I  '11  agree,"  answered 
Samanthy,  silently  swallowing  a  bitter  pill  of 
mental  self-reproach  ;  "  but  why  a  woman  who  's 
got  safe  out  o'  one  marryin'  ventur',  an'  settled 
down  in  decent  weeds,  with  a  snug  house'  an  a 
comf'able  income,  an'  a  likely  darter  like  Clary 
to  keep  her  company,  —  why  she  should  want 
ter  go  sailin  off  agin  inter  the  Lord  knows  what 
of  changes,  —  that 's  what  frustrates  me  ! " 

"  Oh,  as  to  Clary,"  began  Mrs.  Buttrick,  "  'tain't 
no  ways  likely  she  '11 "  —  She  checked  herself 
in  some  confusion,  adding,  —  "  Dear  sakes  !  my 
ironin' ! "  and  disappeared  down  the  stairs,  fol- 


GEMINI.  245 

lowed  by  Samanthy,  who  was  eager  to  talk  over 
the  news.  They  were  hardly  out  of  hearing, 
before  Pen  frightened  her  sister  by  bursting  into 
tears,  and  then  into  laughter,  and  then  cried 
again,  assuring  Lally  between  her  sobs,  that  it 
was  nothing,  nothing  at  all  ;  which  naturally 
convinced  her  of  the  exact  contrary.  After 
much  soothing  and  coaxing,  the  whole  story  of 
the  minister's  repeated  offers,  her  letter  of  ac 
ceptance,  and  Hiram's  interposition,  was  told  ; 
and  the  twins  embraced  each  other  as  if  they 
had  just  gained  a  friendly  coast,  after  all  the 
horrors  of  a  shipwreck.  Becoming  more  calm 
after  a  while,  they  agreed  that  the  match  was  a 
charmingly  suitable  one :  Mrs.  Flanders  was 
about  the  minister's  age,  and  would  be  as  kind 
and  faithful  a  mother,  as  the  children  could  have. 
Before. night,  the  whole  village  had  discussed  the 
matter,  and,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  come 
to  the  same  conclusion.  Mr.  Kilburn  himself 
was  one  of  the  malcontents,  and  his  daughter 
Cordelia,  was  another.  He  had  really  loved 


246  GEMINI. 

Penserosa,  and  suffered  deep  mortification  and 
disappointment  in  obtaining  only  a  kind  and 
comely  housekeeper  and  stepmother  for  his 
family,  when  he  had  hoped  to  win  the  sweetest 
woman  he -had  ever  known,  for  his  own  joy  and 
companionship.  He  felt  that,  with  Pen  for  his 
wife,  his  whole  nature  would  have  been  elevated, 
purified,  and  ennobled ;  while,  as  the  husband  of 
Mrs.  Flanders,  he  should  but  sink  into  lower 
depths  of  the  commonplace,  narrow,  and  sordid  ex 
istence  so  sadly  common  in  small  country  towns. 

Cordelia's  grief  was  twofold :  jealousy  that 
her  dead  mother  should  be  so  soon  supplanted, 
and  keen  disappointment  that  it  should  be  by 
"  that  woman,"  instead  of  by  her  darling  Miss 
Pen :  for  village  gossip  had  not  failed  to  hint  to 
her  this  possibility  ;  and  she  had  come  to  love 
the  picture,  putting  it,  however,  into  a  far  "  by 
arid  by,"  in  reverence  to  the  lost. 

While  her  father  strove  manfully  to  root  out 
his  preference  for  the  unattainable,  and  consoled 
himself,  or  attempted  to,  by  the  reflection  that 


GEMINI.  247 

his  worldly  goods  would  be  increased  instead  of 
diminished  by  this  match,  while  his  wounded 
vanity  was  soothed  by  the  innocently  evident 
pride  and  happiness  of  the  widow,  —  poor  Cor 
delia,  avoiding  the  ill-timed  though  well-meant 
congratulations  and  exhortations  of  the  neigh 
bors,  fled,  literally,  to  the  mountains,  and 
poured  out  all  her  woes  in  the  arms  of  her  best 
friend.  It  was  somewhat  embarrassing  to  Pen 
to  be  wooed  by  the  daughter,  as  well  as  the 
father  :  but  her  joy  in  her  escape  enabled  her  to 
rise  to  the  emergency ;  and,  while  giving  the 
child  many  caresses,  she  mingled  reproof  with 
sympathy,  advised  submission  to  the  inevitable, 
and  the  making  of  friends  and  allies  of  the  truly 
kind  and  excellent  widow  and  Clary.  The  dis 
tance  between  Mrs.  Buttrick's  house  and  the 
village  rendered  such  interviews  comfortably 
rare  ;  and  both  private  feeling  and  popular  inter 
est  subsided  ere  many  days  to  their  ordinary 
placid  level.  The  next  high-tide  of  excitement 
was  caused  by  the  final  return  of  Hiram  and  the 


248  GEMINI. 

other  Beebury  volunteers ;  not  even  the  pro 
spective  bride  of  the  minister  could  hope  to  rival 
in  popular  attention  the  heroes  from  southern 
and  western  camps  and  battle-fields.  Bereaved 
mothers  like  Mrs.  Buttrick,  and  sorrowing  maid 
ens  like  Clary  and  Lally,  felt  their  wounds  bleed 
afresh,  but  were  too  generous  not  to  rejoice  with 
those  who  now  rejoiced,  remembering  that  these, 
in  their  turn,  had  wept  with  them,  when  they 
wept.  Consolation  was  hot  far  distant  from  two 
of  the  mourners.  Benevento  Buttrick,  Beetho 
ven's  twin-brother,  who  had  been  for  many  years 
in  the  gold-regions  of  California,  came  home  in 
July  with  a  handsome  amount  of  savings,  the 
fullest,  blackest  beard  ever  seen  in  Beebury,  and 
a  steady  purpose  to  win  and  marry  shy,  tender 
hearted  little  Clary  Flanders,  if  love  and  patience 
could  do  it.  Only  his  mother  knew  that  he  had 
loved  her  before  he  went  away,  and  had  gone 
because  he  saw  his  brother  preferred,  —  but, 
when  he  told  Clary  so,  was  it  in  woman-nature 
not  to  be  moved  thereby  ?  His  bronzed  beauty, 


GEMINI.  249 

travelled  air,  and  a  few  weeks  of  tender  assidui 
ties,  and  eloquent  pleadings  —  such  as  no  Beebury 
maiden  had  ever  heard  or  known  before  —  suf 
ficed  to  break  down  the  slight  defences  which 
shyness  and  sense  of  duty  to  the  dead. had 
reared ;  and  Lally's  more  enduring  constancy 
was  sadly  shocked  when  Mrs.  Buttrick  came  into 
her  room  one  evening  in  September,  half  smiles, 
half  tears,  with  the  preparatory  statement,  — 

"  Wai,  .gals,  one  weddin'  brings  another.  I  'm 
a-goin'  to  hev  Clary  for  a  darter  arter  all,  an'  I 
onny  wish  your  blessed  father  was  here  to  per- 
nounce  the  words ;  for  'twas  he  baptized  her  an' 
Beethoven,  and  Benevento  too  ;  but  there  —  we 
can't  hev  ev'ry  thin',  can  we  ?  Things  is  so 
checkered  !  One  dear  boy  hed  to  die,  'fore  the 
other  could  hev  his  heart's  desire  ;  but  he 
mourned  him  true  all  the  same,  and  so  did  Clary, 
an'  nobuddy  needn't  cast  it  up  to  her  that  she 
didn't,  for  all  she  's  so  happy  now.  Gal's  love 
can't  last  like  mother's  love,  nor  'tain't  intended 
it  should." 


250  GEMINI. 

Pen  made  suitable  reply,  and  presently  drew 
the  kind  but  unobserving  woman  from  the  room, 
saying  that  Lally  was  more  tired  than  usual  to 
night.  She  had  seen  the  starting  tears,  and 
.knew  that  her  sister  would  like  to  be  alone 
a  while.  Ordinarily,  however,  Lally  was  cheer 
ful  now,  and  so  free  from  pain,  and  the  trouble 
some  cough  of  last  winter,  that  Pen  was  com 
pletely  deceived,  and  always  looked  back  upon 
that  summer  as  the  halcyon  time  of  her  life.  Lally 
had  never  been  so  calmly  contented,  so  demon 
stratively  grateful  and  loving  to  all  around  her. 
Hiram  was  working  for  Mr.  Buttrick  on  the  farm 
and  in  the  saw-mill,  and  was  always  ready  to  help 
Lally  from  the  wagon,  or  carry  her  upstairs  when 
she  was  tired,  besides  adding  immensely  to  the 
cheerfulness  of  the  household  by  his  invariable 
good  temper  and  fund  of  pleasant  talk.  Saman- 
thy  cancelled  her  board  and  lodging  obligations, 
by  assuming  all  the  butter  and  cheese  making  of 
the  farm,  as  well  as  the  family  mending,  and  still 
declared  herself  to  be  growing  fat  from  laziness. 


GEMINI.  251 

In  view  of  this  peril,  though  she  was  as  lean  and 
gaunt  as  a  well-sweep,  she  entered  upon  a  cor 
rective  course  of  braided  rag-mats,  in  the  com 
position  of  which  the  gravity  of  Mr.  Buttrick's 
taste  in  gray  and  brown  coats  and  trowsers  was 
happily  relieved  by  his  wife's  more  florid  fancy, 
in  blue  and  orange  gowns  and  red  petticoats. 
When  braiding  palled,  the  mysterious  "  hook 
ing  "  process  was  adopted,  —  a  style  admitting 
of  endless  variety  of  design :  piebald  kittens 
and  puppies',  cabbage  roses,  and  impossibly 
shaded  foliage,  all  framed  in  arabesques  of 
equally  daring  originality  and  improvement  (?) 
upon  nature.  Square  mats,  ovals,  and  rounds, 
grew  under  her  fingers,  the  two  choicest  being 
intended  as  wedding-gifts  for  the  future  Mrs. 
Kilburn,  and  "  posy-faced  Clary,"  as  Samanthy 
often  called  her.  Benevento  was  building  a 
pretty  new  house  in  the  village,  on  the  comple 
tion  of  which,  it  was  whispered,  there  would  be 
a  double  wedding  in  the  Hollow. 

"  What  a  mercy  it  is  that  Aunt  Virginia  lives 


252  GEMINI. 

so  far  away,  and  express-rates  are  so  high,"  said 
Lally  to  Pen,  in  strict  confidence  :  "  Uncle  Stock- 
bridge  would  certainly  have  had  his  bedroom,  if 
not  his  parlor,  long  ago  ornamented  with  Saman- 
thy's  mats,  —  blue  peonies  and  red  cucumbers 
spilling  out  of  a  spotted  cornucopia,  if  he  had 
lived  within  forty  miles." 


GEMINI.  253 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

"  How  pleasant  are  thy  paths,  O  Death  ! 
Thy  new  restores  our  lost ; 
There  are  voices  of  the  new  times 
With  the  ringing  of  the  old  chimes 
Blent  sweetly  on  thy  coast.''' 


FABER. 


/T~~*HE  end  was  nearer  than  even  Dr.  Hopkins 
supposed.  Through  the  summer  and 
early  autumn,  Lally  was  able  to  walk,  every 
pleasant  morning,  to  one  or  the  other  of  her 
favorite  resting-places.  The  first  was  the  saw 
mill,  j  ust  across  the  road,  —  a  weather-browned  old 
building,  consisting  of  a  roof,  a  rear  wall,  and  a 
perilously  open-work  floor,  but  ever  fragrant  with 
fresh  pine  and  hemlock  sawdust,  and  command 
ing  a  charming  view  of  the  forest-framed  mill- 
pond  at  one  end,  and  the  escaping  brook, 
foaming  and  leaping  over  rocks  arid  slab-ends 
at  the  other  ;  while  in  front  was  the  mill-yard, 


254  GEMINI. 

always  a  pretty  study  in  red  and  brown  and 
green,  and  straw  color  ;  with  its  picturesque  con 
fusion  of  logs  with  the  bark  on,  and  logs  freshly 
peeled,  piles  of  newly  sawn  boards  and  slabs, 
stacks  of  ruddy  bark,  tangled  thickets  of  wild 
raspberry  bushes,  —  which  thrive  in  sawdust, — 
and  a  deep  strew  of  chips  and  chunks  of  every 
size  and  kind,  dear  to  the  housekeeper's  heart 
for  kettle-boiling  and  oven-heating ;  over  all 
darted  the  swallows  and  pee-wees,  who  butlt 
their  nests  and  reared  their  young,  year  after 
year,  on  the  rafters  of  the  mill-roof,  and  even  on 
the  ponderous  beams  below  the  floor,  in  spite  of 
noisy  wheels,  whirling  bands,  and  flying  sawdust. 
It  was  a  very  different  place  from  the  saw-mill 
in  the  Hollow,  the  one  standing  high  on  the 
breezy  mountain-side,  the  other  half  buried  in 
alder-bushes  three  miles  below.  Lally  would  sit 
for  hours  on  Samanthy's  shawl  spread  over  a 
heap  of  sawdust,  leaning  against  a  hemlock  log, 
breathing  the  spicy  smell  of  the  wood,  watching 
Hiram  and  Mr.  Buttrick  as  they  fed  that  never- 


GEMINI.  255 

satisfied  dragon  the  saw,  with  its  one  jaw  flashing 
with  relentless  monotony  up  and  down,  while 
the  Juggernaut  carriage  advanced  and  retreated 
with  its  firmly  bound  victim,  but  lately  waving, 
in  plumy  pride,  in  the  forest  primeval.  Hiram 
would  often  leave  his  work  for  a  moment's  chat 
with  her,  or  to  bring  a  leaf  full  of  raspberries,  a 
white  lily  from  the  pond,  or  vivid  cardinal-flower 
from  the  brook  ;  and,  punctually  at  eleven,  Pen 
would  arrive,  with  a  cup  of  warm  milk  in  which 
Iceland  moss  had  been  boiled,  or  a  glass  of  beaten 
egg  and  wine,  remaining,  perhaps,  to  read  aloud 
to  her  darling  from  a  newspaper  the  Doctor  had 
sent,  or  from  her  precious  Jean  Ingelow,  which 
both  knew  almost  by  heart  before  the  season 
was  over.  "  Divided  "  was  the  poem  they  really 
loved  the  best,  but  it  touched  chords  of  past 
sorrows  in  each,  too  truly  to  be  read  aloud. 
"  Brothers  and  a  Sermon "  was  the  one  Lally 
most  often  asked  for ;  while  the  "  High  Tide " 
was  the  most  studied  .by  Pen,  who  had  never 
seen  the  sea.  The  other  favorite  haunt  was  a 


256  GEMINI. 

quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  road,  where  a  sudden 
bend  gave  a  lovely  view  of  Beebury  village  be 
low,  the  White  Mountains  in  the  far  distance, 
and  miles  of  rocky  pastures,  "  maple  orchards," 
and  pine-clothed  hills  between.  Hiram  had  ar 
ranged  a  comfortable  seat  in  a  gap  in. the  stone 
wall,  under  a  black-cherry  tree,  and  here  the 
passing  farmer,  or  the  horseback  boy,  returning 
from  the  grist-mill  or  the  blacksmith's,  often 
found  the  sisters,  and  tossed  into  their  laps  a 
letter  from  Aunt  Virginia,  or  an  illustrated  paper 
or  new  magazine,  addressed  in  a  girlish  hand 
which  they  had  learned  to  associate  with  "  the 
Stockbridge  girls." 

"  I  suppose  they  know  I  am  sick,  and  feel 
sorry  for  me,"  Lally  would  say,  with  a  sad  little 
smile.  "You  must  invite  them  here,  and  make 
friends  of  them,  Pen,  when  you  haven't  me  to 
fuss  over."  But  Pen  could  not,  would  not,  be 
lieve  yet. 

When  «the  sun  was  no,t  warm  enough  to  allow 
of  these  out-of-door  pleasures,  Lally  would  carry 


GEMINI.  257 

her  book  and  her  sister  to  the  big  barn,  to  watch 
Hiram  husking  corn,  and  to  tease  him,  as  of  old, 
for  "  daventures,"  of  which  he  now  had  a  very 
creditable  supply.  But,  late  in  September,  came 
a  five-days'  storm,  when  the  sun  veiled  himself 
in  hopeless  gray,  —  when  the  cold  north-east 
wind  came  straight  from  the  land  of  ice-floes, 
to  tear  off  the  gay  mantles  from  the  now  weeping 
trees,  and  cause  them  to  toss  their  bare  arms 
aloft,  as  if  crying  for  rest.  The  stubble  fields 
were  sodden,  the  cattle  hung  their  heads  in  the 
lee  of  the  walls,  no  wagon  came  by  from  the 
village,  the  small  greenish  window-panes  streamed 
ceaselessly  with  tear-like  drops,  and  the  gale 
moaned  and  shrieked  like  a  banshee  in  the 
chimney...  Hiram  tramped  to  and  fro  in  the 
mill,  in  a  long,  black  rubber  coat.  "  He  looks 
as  if  he  were  conducting  a  funeral,"  said 
Lally,  with  a  nervous  laugh.  "That  hemlock 
log  on  the  carriage  looks  exactly  like  an  un- 
painted  coffin,  Pen ; "  and  she  turned  wearily  on 

her  sofa,  and  tried  to  find  something  more  cheer- 
17 


258  GEM  INT. 

ful  inside  ;  but  even  Mrs.  Buttrick's  apple-face, 
Samanthy's  gayest  mat-work,  and  Pen's  choicest 
cookery,  failed  to  relieve  her  feverish  languor. 
She  drooped  like  a  gathered  water-lily;  and, 
during  the  fifth  night,  the  old  distress  for 
breath  attacked  her,  and  was  so  long-continued 
that  Pen  sent  Hiram  for  the  Doctor  in  great 
alarm.  He  came ;  but,  though  Lally  was  re 
lieved  by  what  he  gave  her,  he  knew  that  it 
was  but  temporarily,  and  that  the  time  had 
come  when  he  must  tell  Pen  that  hope  was  no 
more,  and  she  must  strengthen  her  soul  for  the 
parting  which  any  hour  might  now  bring. 

"  It  was  the  hardest  day's  work  I  ever  did, 
Persis,"  he  said  to  his  wife  that  evening.  "  I 
felt  like  an  executioner  when  that  girl  looked  up 
at  me  to  see  if  she  must  believe  what  I  said,  — 
her  great  brown  eyes  like  a  shot  deer,  and  her 
lips  whiter  and  tighter  every  moment.  She  gave 
one  little  moan,  and  held  on  to  my  arm  an  in 
stant:  but  just  then  Lally  called  from  the  other 
room,  and,  if  you  '11  believe  me,  she  pressed  her 


GEMINI.  259 

hand  hard  on  her  lips,  to  stop  their  trembling, 
and  walked  in  to  the  bedside  with  as  sweet  a 
smile  as  you  ever  saw  on  her  face ;  and  she  'd 
been  up  all  night  too,  Samanthy  said.  You 
women  are  wonderful  creatures,  Persis." 

That  day  was  one  of  such  glorious,  golden 
sunshine,  of  such  ripened  sweetness  of  breeze 
as  only  autumn  can  give, —  New  England  autumn, 
where  the  air  seems  to  partake  of  the  strength 
of  its  granite,  as  well  as  of  the  balsamic  fragrance 
of  its  forests ;  and,  breathing  it,  one  feels  as  if 
he  might  live  for  ever. 

Resting  upon  her  pillows,  in  the  languid  bless 
edness  of  relieved  pain,  Lally  lay  silent  all  day, 
now  dropping  into  a  gentle  doze,  now  rousing 
herself  to  smile  at  Pen,  who  sat  tirelessly  by, 
now  feasting  her  eyes  upon  the  broad,  peaceful 
landscape  through  the  wide-opened  windows,  — 
the  gaunt  old  mountain,  the  hemlocks  tossing  in 
the  sunshine,  and  the  cattle,  with  their  tinkling 
bells,  feeding  ever  nearer  home  as  the  day  waned. 
During  the  following  night  it  was  much  the  same, 


260  GEMINI. 

except  that  she  spoke  from  time  to  time  gentle 
thanks  to  Samanthy  and  Hiram,  as  they  moved 
her  pillows  or  brought  her  drink,  but  always 
turning  back  her  eyes  to  Pen,  who  grew  whiter 
and  whiter,  but  whose  answering  smile  never 
failed,  whose  faithful  hand  never  faltered  in  its 
clasp  on  hers. 

As  the  next  day's  sun  rose  in  cloudless  beauty, 
Dr.  Hopkins  rode  slowly  down  the  mountain 
into  the  village,  with  so  sad  a  face,  that  those 
who  stood  at  gates  and  windows  to  hear  his 
report,  as  they  had  twenty-four  years  ago,  hardly 
needed  to  hear  his  words,  —  "  Lally  Mason  died 
at  six  this  morning,  like  a  child  going  to  sleep." 


GEMINI.  26l 


CHAPTER    XX. 
Six  years  after. 

"  He,  full  of  bashfulness  and  truth, 
Loved  much,  hoped  little,  and  desired  nought." 

TASSO  (Fairfax's  translation}. 

LETTER  FROM  SOPHY  STOCKBRIDGE  TO  HER  SISTER 
ANNIE. 

"  BEEBURY,  N.  H.^  July  21, 1871. 

"  DEAR  ANNIE,  —  I  suppose  you  received  the  short 
note  I  wrote  last  week,  telling  of  my  safe  arrival,  and 
are  now  impatient  to  hear  how  I  like  the  place  and 
the  people,  what  I  am  doing,  and  all  about  it.  First 
of  all  then,  Mamma  was  right,  and  you  and  I  were 
wrong ;  for  I  am  delighted  with  every  thing,  —  not  a  bit 
home-sick,  and,  tell  Papa,  have  a  ferocious  appetite, 
have  gained  a  pound  in  weight  already,  and  sleep  all 
night  without  waking.  I  feel  like  a  different  being 
from  the  cross  and  limpy  girl  you  bade  good-by  to 
at  West  Philadelphia ;  and,  if  you  were  only  here,  my 
cup  of  contentment  would  be  quite  full.  As  you  are 
not,  I  must  do  my  best  at  description.  Fancy,  then,  a 
large,  square,  red  house,  —  with  white  doors,  eaves,  and 


262  GEMINI. 


window  trimmings, — two  stories  high,  and  an  immense 
curiosity-shop  of  an  attic,  besides  ;  set  two-thirds  of 
the  way  up  a  huge,  rugged  mountain,  on  a  flat  place 
just  big  enough  for  the  house  and  barns  and  saw 
mill,  and  a  front-door  yard  full  of  flowers ;  while 
behind,  the  ground  goes  up  so  steep  that  I  can't 
understand  why  the  snow-drifts  in  winter  don't  come 
sliding  down,  right  into  the  kitchen  windows;' but 
they  say  they  don't.  Downstairs  there 's  a  parlor 
and  a  dining-room,  —  one  on  each  side  of  the  front 
door  ;  and  back  of  both,  the  whole  width  of  the  house, 
is  the  jolliest  and  yet  cosiest  kitchen  I  ever  saw.  It 
has  a  great  open  fire-place,  that  I  can  almost  walk 
into,  and  a  cooking-stove  too :  sometimes  they  use 
one,  and  sometimes  the  other.  You  see,  it  used  to 
be  two  rooms,  and  there  are  two  chimneys.  Of 
course,  the  fire-place  is  what  we  sit  by,  cold  nights, 
(and  even  in  July  we  have  them  here),  and  it  is  the 
best  to  pop  corn  and  roast  apples  by.  Warm  even 
ings,  and  every  afternoon,  we  sit  in  the  parlor,  which 
is  a  home-like  and  refined-looking  room,  though  there 
is  nothing  handsome  in  it.  My  room  is  over  the  din 
ing-room,  and  has  two  windows  looking  west,  right 
on  to  the  mountain,  and  one  north  into  the  woods. 
Cousin  Pen's  room  looks  toward  the  mountain,  and 
down  at  the  village,  and  is  even  pleasanter;  but  it 
was  her  sister's  room,  and  so  she  always  keeps  it  for 
herself.  O  Annie,  she  is  so  different  from  what 
we  fancied  !  not  the  least  old-maidish,  or  prim,  or 


GEMINI.  263 

fussy,  or  any  thing  of  the  sort;  and  yet  she  is -cer 
tainly  thirty  years  old,  for  you  know  Cousin  Allegra 
was  her  twin,  and  it  says  on  the  monument,  '  aged 
twenty-four,'  and  she  died  in  1865.  If  you  or  I  are 
half  as  pretty  when  we  are  thirty,  I  know  I  shall  be 
thankful,  and  I  think  I  shall  be  surprised.  Why,  in 
the  first  place,  her  hair — a  lovely  golden-brown  —  is 
thirty-six  inches  long,  and  mine  is  only  twenty-seven, 
actual  measurement  by  Mrs.  Buttrick's  yard-stick, 
and  hers  is  thicker  than  mine  too.  Her  complexion 
is  fresh  and  pretty,  —  no  late  hours  here,  you  know,  — 
and  she  has  never  had  dyspepsia  in  her  life.  Her 
eyes  are  the  real  beauty  of  her  face,  though ;  and  I 
haven't  yet  made  up  my  mind  whether  it 's  because 
they  're  large  and  brown,  or  whether  it 's  the  sweet, 
earnest,  beaming  look  in  them.  She  is  a  very  happy, 
even-tempered  person  ;  and  yet  you  can  see,  by  the 
way  she  speaks  of  her  sister  every  day,  how  she  loved 
her,  and  is  still  thinking  of  her  in  all  she  does.  It 's 
very  strange,  —  you  know  when  mother  died  we  never 
thought  we  could  name  her,  or  refer  to  her  in  any 
way,  and  we  felt  as  if  we  should  scream  if  any  one 
else  did,  —  but  Cousin  Pen  talks  about  '  Lally's- 
favorite  flowers,'  and  says  '  Lally  would  have  en 
joyed  this,'  and  quotes  little  funny  sayings  of  hers, 
and  even  laughs  over  them.  I  believe  if  I  were  going 
to  die,  I  should  rather  -be  remembered  in  this  way, 
and  not  have  my  name  die  out  in  the  family.  Sa- 
manthy  is  more  as  I  imagined  she  would  be,  for  you 


264  GEMINI. 

know  Mamma  had  told  us  just  how  queer  and  keen 
she  was  ;  and  I  won't  attempt  to  describe  her  or  Mrs. 
Buttrick.  Both  are  funny  beyond  words  :  but  yet  they 
are  never  ridiculous ;  you  respect  them  all  the  time, 
somehow,  in  spite  of  outrageous  grammar,  and  a 
style  of  dress  and  hair  which  would  amaze  Chestnut 
Street  into  fits.  Mrs.  Buttrick  is  not  here  all  the 
time ;  for  she  is  so  lonely  since  her  husband  died  last 
summer,  that  she  spends  half  her  days  at  her  son's 
in  the  village,  where  there  are  two  nice  little  children, 
who  divert  her  mind.  This  house  really  belongs  to 
Hiram  ;  but  Mrs.  Buttrick  has,  by  her  husband's  will, 
a  life-ownership  of  two  rooms  in  it,  and  a  share  in  the 
profits  of  the  farm.  The  rest  of  the  property  went  to 
her  son  Ben,  (not  Benjamin,  my  dear,  as  you  would 
naturally  suppose,  but  Benevento,  after  a  tune  in  the 
hymn  book  !)  and  Hiram  bought  it  of  him,  and  has 
improved  the  place  a  great  deal, —  building  a  little 
porch  over  the  front-door,  and  a  piazza  at  the  side  ; 
bringing  water  into  the  kitchen  from  a  spring  in  the 
hill-side  ;  and  putting  in  large  glass  at  the  windows. 
Cousin  Pen  says  she  wishes  Cousin  Lally  could  have 
enjoyed  these :  the  little,  old,  green  panes  used  to 
annoy  her  so  ;  she  said  she  never  could  be  sure,  across 
the  room,  whether  Mrs.  Buttrick  was  coming  in  at  the 
gate  in  her  red  shawl,  or  whether  the  cows  were  going 
by.  Samanthy  told  me  that  Cousin  Pen  paid  for  some 
of  these  changes,  for  she  used  to  pay  board  to  Mr. 
Buttrick  ;  but  Hiram  won't  take  it  from  her,  and  so 


GEMINL  265 


she  has  to  do  something  that  will  add  to  his  comfort 
or  Samanthy's  instead.  She  sews  for  Samanthy,  too, 
and  does  some  of  the  house-work  and  cooking :  for 
she  says  she  is  healthier  and  happier  for  being  busy, 
and  on  her  feet  part  of  the  day ;  though  Samanthy 
rather  opposes  it,  and  tries  to  do  every  thing  herself. 
One  great  surprise  to  me  —  and  this  you  needn't  let 
anybody  see  —  is  Hiram.  There  's  no  such  thing  as 
flirting  with  him.  You  know  we  had  planned  that  if 
there  was  nothing  else  I  could  amuse  myself  with 
him,  —  'if  he  is  decently  good-looking,'  you  prudently 
added :  now,  he  is  more  than  that ;  he  is  fairly  hand 
some  !  —  straight,  brown  as  a  nut,  six  feet  tall,  but 
bashful  as  a  boy  of  fifteen,  with  a  thick  brown 
beard,  a  little  grizzled,  and  gray  eyes,  quite  merry, 
but  very  shy  of  looking  straight  at  you.  Eminently 
flirtatious,  you  see,  as  far  as  looks  go,  and  bright  and 
keen  as  he  can  be  ;  but  —  alas  for  my  vanity  !  —  so 
bound  up  in  Cousin  Pen,  that  he  pays  me  no  more 
attention  than  he  does  to  the  humming-birds  over 
the  red  balm  in  the  garden.  That  garden  is  a  queer 
mixture.  It  is  actually  hedged  in,  on  two  sides,  with 
hollyhocks  of  every  color  and  shade ;  and  Cousin 
Pen  prefers  the  single  ones  to  the  double,  and  I 
believe  she  is  right.  She  never  will  have  any  dah 
lias  or  petunias,  because  Lally  disliked  the  smell  of 
them  :  but  there  are  quantities  of  pansies  and  migno 
nette,  and  sweet-peas,  and  nasturtiums,  and  ver 
benas,  and  plenty  of  an  old-fashioned  flower  called 


266  GEMINI. 

'four-o'clock, 'to  please  Mrs.  Buttrick  ;  and  clove  and 
fringe  and  mullein-pinks  for  Samanthy ;  roses,  which 
Hiram  likes  ;  and  white  garden  lilies  and  heliotrope, 
Cousin  Pen's  favorites.  Every  Sunday,  when  we  ride 
to  church,  we  take  a  basketful  of  flowers  to  the  grave 
yard,  where  Cousin  Lally  and  her  father  and  mother 
are  buried  ;  but,  about  Hiram,  — he  's  rather  a  silent 
man,  about  forty-five,  I  think  ;  quite  intelligent,  though 
far  from  grammatical  ;  full  of  fun,  after  a  quiet  fash 
ion  of  his  own,  but  very  down-right  and  commonsensi- 
cal ;  not  in  the  least  gallant,  and  yet  somehow  you 
know  he  'd  stand  between  you  and  a  mad  dog  without 
thinking  twice  about  it.  He  never  bothers  Cousin 
Pen,  but  treats  her  exactly  as  if  she  were  some  very 
precious,  small,  and  delicate  thing,  that  may  get  lost 
or  broken  if  one  is  not  tender  and  careful  of  it.  He 
always  calls  her  '  Penny  ; '  and  yet  his  manner  is  as 
reverent  as  if  he  said,  '  Your  serene  highness.'  He 
calls  all  her  things  'little;'  'here's  your  little  thim 
ble,  Penny  ; '  or  '  give  me  your  little  shawl,  Permy ; '  or 
'  don't  wet  your  little  feet,  Penny : '  and  the  other 
night  when  he  came  home  after  nine,  all  wet  and 
tired  from  hunting  over  the  mountain  for  a  stray 
cow,  and  I  stupidly  mentioned  that  no  one  had  been 
by  from  the  post-office,  he  quietly  slipped  on  another 
pair  of  boots  and  a  dry  coat,  —  took  half  a  pie  in  his 
hand,  and  rode  on  horseback  three  miles  and  back ! 
To  please  me,  do  you  suppose  ?  Not  at  all !  He 
remembered  that  it  was  the  day  for  Cousin  Pen's 


GEMINI.  267 

magazine,  and  he  almost  forgot  to  hand  me  the  letter 
from  you,  that  happened  to  come  too.  Cousin  Pen 
said,  '  Oh,  don't  go,  Hiram  ! '  but  he  only  gave  his 
quiet  laugh,  and  said,  'Never  you  bother  your  little 
head  'bout  me,  Penny.'  He  's  so  unselfish  too.  You 
know  she  has  promised  to  spend  next  winter  with  us, 
if  I  will  stay  here  till  October  :  so  I  thought  I  'd  pun 
ish  Mr. -Hiram,  for  his  want  of  appreciation  of  my 
charms,  by  working  on  his  feelings  a  little ;  and  I 
went  out  in  the  barn  when  he  was  milking,  and 
sprang  it  on  him  suddenly,  that  she  was  going  home 
with  me,  and  that  we  should  try  to  keep  her  till 
spring. 

"  '  Well  now,  that 's  real  nice,'  said  the  provoking 
thing,  and  he  never  changed  color :  '  it  '-11  set  Penny  up 
first-rate ;  winters  here  is  ruther  dull  when  we  git 
snow-banked  in ;  I  s'pose  you  don't  git  too  much 
snow  down  there  ;  an'  she  c'n  see  all  them  pictures 
and  curiosities  you  was  a-tellin'  about  at  dinner.' 

"  '  I  suppose  you  and  Samanthy  won't  miss  her 
much,'  said  I,  quite  disgusted  with  his  coolness. 

"  'Oh,  I  guess  we  c'n  stan'  it,'  he  replied,  milking 
away,  quite  cheerfully  :  '  there  '11  be  her  little  letters 
comin'  to  us  onct  a  week,  you  know  ;  Penny  writes  a 
first-class  kind  of  a  letter.' 

"  '  Perhaps  she  '11  get  married,  and  conclude  to  stay 
in  Philadelphia,'  I  said  spitefully,  for  I  began  to  be 
lieve  he  knew  I  was  trying  to  tease  him,  and  all  he 
said  was,  '  So,  Bossy,'  to  the  cow  he  was  milking ; 


268  GEMINI. 


and  yet,  as  the  Baltimore  girls  say,  'his  sun  rises  and 
sets  in  her.'  For  all  that,  he  is  not  her  lover,  and 
I  'm  sure  she  never  could  be  his  wife ;  and  yet  they 
are  the  best  of  friends. 

"  Here  it  is  Friday,  and  my  letter  not  finished  yet. 
I  went  to  tea,  at  Mrs.  Dr.  Hopkins's,  with  Cousin 
Pen,  last  night,  and  we  had  a  lovely  time.  The  Doc 
tor  is  as  much  of  a  gentleman  as  Papa,  and  his  wife 
is  as  sprightly  and  pleasant  as  she  can  be.  They 
both  inquired  very  cordially  for  Mamma,  and  sent 
their  love  to  her.  They  have  plenty  of  books  ;  and 
I  am  to  borrow  them  whenever  I  choose,  though 
Cousin  Pen  has  a  good  many  too.  She  spends  what 
would  have  been  Lally's  share  of  her  interest  money, 
on  books  or  a  journey,  every  year,  and  then  it  makes 
her  feel  as  if  they  were  presents  from  her  sister.  She 
lends  her  books  freely  in  the  village  ;  for  she  says  she 
remembers  how  she  and  Lally  used  to  pine  for  more 
reading  when  they  were  growing  up.  She  means  to 
collect  all  she  can  in  her  lifetime,  and  leave  them  to 
the  town  when  she  dies  :  but  they  are  really  as  good 
as  public  property  now,  she  is  so  kind  about  them. 
Her  journey,  last  winter,  was  to  Boston.  Mrs.  Hop 
kins  went  with  her,  and  they  stayed  two  weeks,  and 
saw  all  the  interesting  places.  The  year  before,  she 
went  to  Niagara  with  the  Ben  Buttrick's,  and  so  she 
makes  a  change  for  herself  when  she  feels  the  need 
of  it.  She  is  always  busy,  and  yet  never  in  a  hurry 


GEMINI.  269 

or  a  fidget.  You  will  think  I  am  in  love  with  her, 
and  I  believe  I  am.  Every  one  in  town  loves  her, 
and  I  don't  wonder.  Cordelia  Kilburn,  the  minister's 
daughter,  told  me  the  other  day  that  when  Cousin 
Lally  died  the  people  were  so  full  of  sympathy  for 
Cousin  Penny,  and  so  afraid  she  would  be  sick  with 
sorrow,  or  would  go  away  from  Beebury  to  live,  that 
they  consulted  together,  and  asked  Dr.  Hopkins 
what  they  could  do  for  her.  He  had  noticed  that 
she  seemed  to  take  comfort  in  playing  on  the  church 
organ  :  she  had  always  played  it  Sundays,  but  now 
she  would  borrow  the  key,  and  go  in  alone  on  week 
days,  and  stay  a  long  time  ;  so  he  proposed  they 
should  combine  in  giving  her  a  good  one  for  her  own, 
and  he  headed  the  paper  with  a  handsome  sum.  Mr. 
Kilburn  did  the  same,  and  before  the  week  was  over 
the  whole  amount  was  raised,  and  every  family  in 
town  had  done  something.  Cordelia  said  it  was  the 
most  lovely  sight  to  see  Cousin  Pen's  surprise  and 
gratitude  and  happiness  when  they  gave  it  to  her. 
Hiram  was  in  the  secret,  and  one  of  the  largest  sub 
scribers  ;  and  he  brought  her  down  to  the  post-office 
the  day  the  organ  came,  and  half  the  town  was  there 
to  see  it,  and  shake  hands  with  her :  but  she  broke 
down  and  cried  so,  after  the  first,  that  Dr.  Hopkins 
carried  her  away,  and  wouldn't  let  her  see  any  more. 
It  proved  the  greatest  comfort  to  her,  and  she  has 
told  me  that  it  helped  her  to  live  through  that  first 


2/0  GEMINI. 

sad  winter,  as  nothing  else  could;  for  there  were 
many  days  when  she  could  neither  read  nor  sew,  she 
missed  Lally  so  terribly.  I  know  Papa  will  admire 
her  very  much.  She  is  just  like  what  he  always 
wanted  us  to  be,  —  so  scholarly  and  industrious,  and 
always  prettily  dressed,  without  being  a  slave  to  it. 
Mrs.  Ben  Buttrick  now,  who  is  quite  rich  for  here, 
keeps  as  good  watch  of  the  fashions  as  we  do,  and 
has  really  very  tasteful  toilettes.  Her  husband  loves 
to  have  her,  and  every  one  else  copies  her  as  well  as 
they  can.  She  's  very  pretty  and  affectionate  ;  but 
Cordelia  is  my  favorite,  next  to  Cousin  Pen,  of  course. 
She  is  really  superior,  and  in  a  pale,  severe  style,  quite 
handsome.  She  and  I  have  struck  up  a  friendship 
already  ;  and  by  and  by  I  shall  see  her  every  day,  for 
she  is  going  to  teach  the  Honey-Hill  school,  and  will 
board  here.  Cousin  Pen  used  to,  and  even  now  she 
often  has  classes  in  Latin  or  French,  for  the  boys 
who  are  going  to  college,  or  the  girls  who  are  ambi 
tious  of  going  beyond  mere  district-school  studies. 
Tell  Papa  we  do  have  yeast  bread  here,  and  Samanthy 
is  an  excellent  cook.  Now  don't  ever  say  I  haven't 
written  you  a  good,  long  letter,  —  four  whole  sheets  !  I 
shall  expect  as  many  in  return,  and  all  the  last  gossip, 
—  who  's  attentive  to  whom,  and  what  pieces  you  are 
taking  in  your  music  ;  and  whether  any  one  inquires 
for  me,  and  how  you  trimmed  your  hat  for  the  base-ball 
match,  and  every  thing.  Give  my  love  to  Papa  and 


GEMINI. 


271 


Mamma,  and  keep  lots  for  yourself.  Hiram  is  calling 
to  Cousin  Pen  to  'put  on  her  little  hat,'  and  she  says 
they  are  going  to  the  village,  and  I  must  go  too,  and 
we  '11  bring  Cordelia  up  to  spend  the  night.  I  '11  mail 
this,  so  good-by  in  a  hurry,  and  write  soon  to  your 

"  SOPHY." 


THE   "NO   NAME   SERIES." 


KISMET.    A  Nile  Novel 

Opinions,  generous  tributes  to  genius,  by  well-known  authors 
whose  names  are  withheld. 

"Well,  I  have  read  'Kismet,'  and  it  is  certainly  very  remarkable.  The 
story  is  interesting,  —  any  well-told  love  story  is,  you  know,  —  but  the  book  itself  is 
a  great  deal  more  so.  Descriptively  and  sentimentally,  —  I  use  the  word  with 
entire  respect,  — it  is,  in  spots,  fairly  exquisite.  It  seems  to  me  all  glowing  and 
overflowing  with  what  the  French  call  beautt  du  diable.  .  .  .  The  conversa 
tions  are  very  clever,  and  the  wit  is  often  astonishingly  like  the  wit  of  an  accom 
plished  man  of  the  world.  One  thing  which  seems  to  me  to  show  promise  — 
great  promise,  if  you  will  —  for  the  future  is  that  the  author  can  not  only  repro 
duce  the  conversation  of  one  brilliant  man,  but  can  make  two  men  talk  together  as 
if  they  were  men,  —  not  women  in  manly  clothes." 

"  It  is  a  charming  book.  I  have  read  it  twice,  an4  looked  it  over  again,  and 
I  wish  I  had  it  all  new  to  sit  up  with  to-night  It  is  so  fresh  and  sweet  and  inno 
cent  and  joyous,  the  dialogue  is  so  ^atural  and  bright,  the  characters  so  keenly 
edged,  and  the  descriptions  so  poetic.  I  don't  know  when  I  have  enjoyed 
any  thing  more,  — never  since  I  went  sailing  up  the  Nile  with  Harriet  Martineau. 
.  .  .  You  must  give  the  author  love  and  greeting  from  one  of  the  fraternity. 
The  hand  that  gives  us  this  pleasure  will  give  us  plenty  more  of  an  improving 
quality  every  year,  I  think." 

"  '  Kismet '  is  indeed  a  delightful  story,  the  best  of  the  series  undoubtedly." 

"  If  '  Kismet'  is  the  first  work  of  a  young  lady,  as  reported,  it  shows  a  great 
gift  of  language,  and  powers  of  description  and  of  insight  into  character  and  life 
quite  uncommon.  ...  Of  the  whole  series  so  far,  I  think  '  Mercy  Philbrick's 
Choice '  is  the  best,  because  it  has,  beside  literary  merit,  some  moral  tone  and 
vigor.  Still  there  are  capabilities  in  the  writer  of  'Kismet'  even  higher  than  in 
that  of  the  wViter  of  '  Mercy  Philbrick's  Choice.'  " 

"  I  liked  it  extremely.  It  is  the  best  in  the  series  so  far,  except  in  con 
struction,  in  which  'Is  That  All?'  slight  as  it  is,  seems  to  me  superior. 
'  Kismet '  is  winning  golden  opinions  everywhere.  I  have  nothing  but  praises 
for  it,  and  have  nothing  but  praise  to  give  it." 

"  I  have  read  'Kismet'  once,  and  mean  to  read  it  again.  It  is  thoroughly 
charming,  and  will  be  a  success." 

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THE    "NO    NAME    SERIES." 


"IS    THAT    ALL?" 

"  In  some  respects,  this  is  the  best  of  the  three  volumes  yet  published  of 
this  series.  For,  though  it  does  not  go  so  deep  as  '  Mercy  Phllbrick,'  nor 
deal  in  poetic,  fancies  like  'Deirdre,'  it  is  better  sustained  on  its  own  surface- 
level  than  either  of  those  romances.  It  is  not  a  romance  at  all  in  fact,  but 
a  pleasing  sketch,  somewhat  too  warmly  colored,  of  New  England  social  life 
in  the  well-bred  circle  of  a  small  city,  —  say  Hartford.  The  plot  is  simple  and 
direct,  and  the  story  closes  before  it  has  time  to  become  tiresome  in  any 
particular.  .  .  .  The  book  is  all  it  professes  to  be,  and  something  more,  and 
will  certainly  be  popular."  —  Springfield  Republican. 

"  The  new  novel  of  the  '  No  Name  Series'  belongs  of  right  to  the  class  of 
stories  which  men  and  women  take  with  them  on  vacation  journeys.  It  has 
little  plot,  and  what  little  there  is  is  of  the  slightest  kind.  It  is  meant  to  be 
light  and  amusing,  and  is  so  in  a  high  degree.  The  picture  it  gives  of  high 
life  in  a  provincial  city  is  very  fine,  and  a  spirit  of  bantering  which  runs 
through  it  makes  it  extremely  piquant.  As  to  the  authorship  it  is  idle  to 
guess.  We  leave  the  solution  of  the  question  to  the  reader's  own  skill  in 
reading  riddles,  and  commend  the  anonymous  book  to  his  attention  as  one 
which  will  entertain  himereatly,  whether  or  not  he  can  guess  its  origin." 
—  Nrw  York  Evening  ttst. 

"  '  Is  That  All  ? '  third  in  order  of  the  conundrums  at  which  the  Messrs. 
Roberts  have  set  the  world  a-guessing,  perjjjexes  conjecture  in  a  greater  degree 
than  its  predecessors.  Its  style  recalls  none  of  our  better-known  writers;  and, 
in  spite  of  the  assurance  of  the  publishers,  we  should  be  disposed  to  set  it 
down  as  the  work  of  a  fresh  hand,  were  it  not  for  the  practice  and  finish  which 
it  evinces.  It  is,  to  use  its  own  words,  a  'very  meringue  of  a  story,'  light, 
crisp,  delicately  flavored  ;  but,  for  all  this  sketchiness,  it  is  full  of  real  character 
and  individuality.  .  .  .  There  is  a  great  deal  of  bright,  natural  conversation, 
some  capital  love-making,  and  both  humor  and  good-humor  in  the  pithy,  half- 
sarcastic  touches  which  glance  here  and  there  on  the  page  like  a  smile  out  of 
quizzical,  friendly  eyes."  —  Boston  Transcript . 

"  It  is  cleverly  constructed  in  plot,  and  has  the  rare  merit  of  seeming  too 
short.  The  style  is  bright  and  animated,  the  characters  are  evidently  drawn 
from  life,  and  spiritedly  drawn  at  that.  The  conversations  are  sparkling  and 
witty,  and  the  work  is  unmistakably  from  the  hand  of  one  thoroughly  ac 
quainted  with  the  world  and  with  good  society.  It  is  the  best  book  of  the 
series,  thus  far,  though,  as  the  author  says,  '  a  very  meringue  of  a  story.'  Its 
naturalness  is  not  the  least  of  its  charms.  We  have  been  thoroughly  delighted 
with  it,  and  we  assure  our  readers  that  they  will  derive  equal  pleasure  and  satis 
faction  from  its  perusal.  The  name  of  the  author  has  not  yet  transpired,  but 
we  hazard  the  guess  that  it  is  a  woman,  —  not  owing  to  any  effeminacy  or 
weakness  in  the  style,  but  from  the  fact  that  no  one  but  a  woman  would  write 
so  saucily  about  the  gentler  sex.  We  advise  everybody  to  read  this  clever  little 
story."  — Saturday  Gazette. 

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THE    "NO    NAME    SERIES." 

What  is  thought  of  the  Initial  Volume 
of  the  Series, 

"MERCY    PHILBBICK'S    CHOICE." 

"  '  Mercy  Philbrick's  Choice '  reads  rather  like  a  record  than  a  story.  Its  per 
sonages  are  few  in  number;  there  is  no  'sensation,'  almost  no  plot,  yet  it  is  highly 
interesting.  In  saving  this,  we  indicate  a  remarkable  story.  The  stage  properties  of 
a  novel  —  events,  situations,  surprises  —  are  cheap,  and  easy  to  come  by.  It  is  the 
higher  art  which  discards  these,  and  trusts  for  effect  to  truth  and  subtlety  of  character 
drawing." — Boston  Transcript. 

"  A  novel  wholly  out  of  the  common  course,  both  in  plot  and  style.  .  .  .  The  moral 
of  the  book  is  wholesome,  —  that  no  good  can  come  from  deceit,  and  that  the  relations 
of  life  and  innocent  love  should  be  frank  and  without  concealment.  Morbidness  works 
only  for  misery,  and  it  is  the  sane  and  sunny  and  sound  people  who  get  the  best  out  of 
this  life."  —  Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  '  Mercy  Philbrick's  Choice  '  is  a  story  of  great  power,  great  depth  of  thought  and 
feeling,  great  tenderness  and  reverence  for  the  truthfulness  of  truth,  and  great  insight 
into  life.  .  .  .  We  dare  place  it  alongside  George  Eliot's  latest  in  point  of  poetic  in 
sight,  vigor,  and  knowledge  of  life,  and  to  say  that  it  is  superior  to  '  Daniel  Deronda  ' 
in  style,  and  informed  by  a  purer  and  deeper  philosophy.  —  Charles  D,  Warner,  in 
the  Hartford  Courant. 

"  It  is  a  pleasure,  in  these  days,  to  get  hold  of  a  new  American  novel  which  mani 
fests  both  culture  and  literary  skill.  The  author  of  'Mercy  Philbrick's  Choice'  is 
evidently  a  woman  who  looks  upon  authorship  as  something  more  than  a  pastime,  — 
a  woman  of  clear  intelligent  tastes  ard  distinct  aspirations.  The  refined  quality  of 
her  intellect  impresses  itself  upon  the  story  from  first  to  lasl."  —  New  Yerk  Tribune, 
"There  are  many  things  to  be  admired  in  this  novel.  The  artistic  delineation  of 
character  and  the  subtle  rendering  of  the  human  atmosphere  show  a  keen  appreciation* 
of  the  delicate  shades  which  make  personality  and  influence  the  life  of  ourselves  and 
others."  —  The  Liberal  Christian. 

"  It  is  a  striking  and  touching  story,  —  this  new  one,  —  and  will  be  greatly  read  and 
admired,  as  it  deserves  to  be.  There  is  even  genius  in  some  of  its  touches,  which 
remind  one  of  a  feminine  counterpart  to  Hawthorne.  "  —  Springfield  Republican. 

"  The  volume  is  interspersed  with  some  of  the  sweetest  poems  to  which  these  latter 
•Mays  have  given  birth,  showing  that  the  author  is  a  master  of  poesy  as  well  as  of  fas 
cinating  fiction."  —  Hartford  Post. 

"  It  is  a  story  of  the  simplest  motives,  but  as  lovely  and  heart-holding  as  a  sweet 
folk-song.  Every  page  is  endearingly  true  to  the  innermost  part  of  humanity,  and  the 
author  transcribes  the  workings  of  hearts  and  minds  with  no  less  faithfulness  than  she 
(we  Insist  that  it  is  a  'she'  )  gives  exquisite  pictures  of  nature  and  the  handiwork 
which  'fashions  in  silence.'  The  story  is  from  the  pen  of  a  poet,  and  the  inter-current 
verses  are  each  and  all  gems  of  '  ray  serene,'  not  too  flashing,  but  very,  very  appreciable 
to  eyes  which  have  learned  how  to  weep."  —  Boston  Traveller.  . 

"  Read  the  book,  which  is  fascinating.  The  author  is  certainly  a  woman.  And 
she  is  a  poet,  too,  of  no  mean  powers,  as  is  proved  by  the  half  dozen  short  poems 
in  the  book.  The  sonnet  engraved  on  Mercy's  tombstone  is.not  surpassed  by  any  of 
Wordsworth."—  Troy  Whig. 

"  This  book  is  a  novel  only  in  the  sense  that  George  Eliot's  books  are  novels.  The 
story  is  subordinate  d  to  showing  the  inevitable  working  out  of  opposing  moral  forces. 
The  characters,  well  drawn  as  some  of  them  are,  are  hardly  more  than  dial-pointers  on 
the  clock  of  fate.  Of  dramatic  motive  there  is  more  than  enough."  —  The  Unitarian 
Revieiti' 

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NAME  SERIES:' 


WILL    DENBIGH,   NOBLEMAN. 

"  The  latest  of  "the  '  No  Name  Series '  is  a  simple,  lovely  Devonshire  story, 
exquisitely  told.  Will  Denbigh,  whose  name  is  the  title  of  the  book,  is  a 
noble  hero  ;  the  little  heroine  wins  and  keeps  his  heart ;  but  the  great  charm  of 
the  tale  is  not  in  its  love  stories,  hearty  and  direct  as  those  are,  but  in  its  pict 
ures  of  country  life  and  country  curates,  —  the  curates  who  must  be  scattered 
all  over  England",  of  whom  Charles  Kingsley  was  one,  gentlemen  and  scholars, 
who  devote  all  they  are  and  all  they  have  to  the  cause  of  Christianity,  and  whose 
lives  of  service  in  the  little  parishes  of  fanners  or  fishermen  are  a  close  following 
of  the  Master  whom  they  worship.  The  author  does  not  preach,  but  tells  these 
beautiful  things  and  paints  these  noble  and  tender  pictures  as  if  he  or  she  had 
always  known  them,  had  always  been  familiar  with  such  characters,  and  talks 
about  them  with  a  tenderness  and  direct  simplicity  that  makes  them  alive  and 
real  to  the  reader.  The  book  is  thoroughly  sweet,  sound  and  hopeful  in 
spirit ;  the  style  has  the  strength  and  simplicity  of  an  accomplished  writer."  — 
Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  This  charming  and  clever  story  we  are  disposed  to  regard  as  the  best  tale 
yet  produced  in  the  '  No  Name  Series.'  "  —  The  Philadelphia  Press. 

"  Inferior  to  none  of  them  in  point  of  interest.  ...  Its  perusal  will  be  a 
source  of  delight  to  every  reader,  and  will  add  greatly  to  the  reputation  of  a 
most  deservedly  popular  series."  —  New  Bedford  Mercury. 

"  The  novels  in  the  '  No  Name  Series '  seem  to  take  on  a  more  ambitious 
character  as  their  number  increases,  and  the  one  here  before  us  ( '  Will  Den 
bigh  ')  ranks  higher  up  in  the  scale  of  literary  merit  than  most  of  its  prede 
cessors."  —  Boston  Post. 

"The  story  admirably  maintains  the  reputation  of  the  series." — Boston 
Commonwealth. 

«  <\yill  Denbigh'  is  the  best  of  the  novels  that  have  as  yet  appeared  in 
the  '  No  Name  Series.'  It  is  a  fresh,  wholesome,  and  thoroughly  agreeable 
story. ' '  —  Portland  Press. 

"  '.No  Name'  is  considered  a  perfect  guarantee  of  excellence.  The  last 
issue,  '  Will  Denbigh '  will  not  detract  from  the  conceded  excellence  of  the 
series."  —  Albany  Evming  Journal. 

"  On  the  whole,  '  Will  Denbigh '  continues  the  series  well,  and  is  still 
another  kind  of  link  in  this  chain,  unlike  in  form  and  ring  of  metal  to  any  of 
its  predecessors. ' '  —  Boston  Traveller. 

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Boston. 


THE    "NO    NAME    SERIES." 


THE    GREAT    MATCH. 

"  The  '  No  Name  Series,'  in  course  of  publication  by  Roberts  Brothers,  Boston, 
has  been  a  success  from  the  beginning.  '  Kismet,'  a  Nile  Novel,  is  not  alone  a  charm 
ing  love  story,  but  one  of  the  best-written  travel-fictions  in  our  language ;  and 
'  Dierdre,'  the  longest  and  best-sustained  narrative  poem  that  has  been  published  for 
a  long,  long  time,  also  has  added  greatly  to  the  popularity  of  the  '  No  Name  Series.' 
We  now  have  '  The  Great  Match,'  another  volume,  to  be  characterized  rather  as  a 
thorough  New  England  story  than  classed  among  American  novels,  very  few  of  which 
are  worth  reading.  The  author  has  shown  no  small  ingenuity  in  making  a  great  match 
of  base  ball  the  foundation  of  this  pleasant  and  effective  narrative.  Base  ball  (fa 
cetiously  called  'Our  National  Game,'  albeit  only  an  adaptation  of  the  English 
'rounders')  is  elevated  in  this  story  into  an  active  element  of  amusement,  connected 
with  which  are  the  incidents  which,  adroitly  worked  up,  complete  the  plot.*  If  any 
one  wishes  to  witness  a  well-foughten  game  of  base  ball,  without  the  crushing,  the  dust, 
even  the  danger  (for  the  ball  sometimes  hits  the  spectators  and  damages  their  features), 
let  him  read  '  The  Great  Match,'  and  he  will  learn  all  about  it.  This  is  a  hearty, 
lively,  simply  told  story,  another  decided  hit  in  the  'No  Name  Series.'"  —  Phila 
delphia  Press. 

"  Is  a  satire  on  the  small  interests,  great  excitements,  and  petty  jealousies  of  small 
towns,  typified  by  Dornfield  and  Milltown,  easily  recognized  by  the  reader  as  two  of 
the  pretty  towns  on  the  Connecticut  River.  The  event  of  the  book,  the  only  event, 
is  a  base-ball  match,  but  out  of  it  grow  several  love  affairs.  Summer  visitors,  the 
affected  youth  spoiled  by  European  travel,  and  the  thin,  learned  Boston  girl,  come  in 
for  a  share  of  the  author's  overflowing  and  good-natured  satire.  There  are  touches 
of  real  wit,  of  artistic  taste,  and  of  a  genuine  love  for  nature  and  all  true  and  sweet 
things  scattered  through  the  story,  which  has  strong  internal  evidence  of  being  written 
by  '  P.  Thorne.'  "  —  Boston  Daily  A  dvertiser. 

"  We  have  derived  as  much  amusement  from  tnis  novel  as  from  any  that  has  as 
yet  appeared  in  the  series.  The  humor  is  exceedingly  clean-cut,  and  is,  moreover, 
without  exaggeration.  The  satire  is  keen,  but  good-natured,  and  the  tone  is  healthy. 
If  we  are  not  mistaken,  this  book  will  enjoy  as  large  a  popularity  and  as  wide  an 
appreciation  as  have  attended  any  of  its  'No  Name'  predecessors."  — Boston  Satur 
day  Evening  Gazette. 

One   volume,  bound   in  cardinal  red  and  black. 
I'rice   $1.0O. 


Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  booksellers.    When  not  to 
be  found,  send  directly  to 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Publishers,  Boston. 


THE   "NO  NAME   SERIES." 


AFTERGLOW. 

"The  seventh  of  the  '  No  Name  Series,'  'Afterglow,'  is  a  strong  novel,  and,  in 
many  respects,  a  remarkable  one.  .  .  .  The  style  is  easy,  and  that  of  an  accomplished 
writer ;  the  tone,  through  most  of  the  book,  cool,  satirical,  with  more  than  a  touch  of 
mockery,  and  sparkling  with  unexpected  wit,  touches  of  exquisite  drollery,  and  ingen 
ious  lancies.  Although  each  character  is  by  itself  unattractive,  and  its  faulty  side 
carefully  displayed,  tne  complications  and  social  plots  are  so  easy  and  admirably 
handled  that,  mean  as  they  are,  they  become  of  great  interest,  and  the  matter  of  per 
sonal  mutual  influence  is  so  prominent  that  it  gives  the  story  a  philosophical  air,  and 
the  dignity  that  it  needs.  .  .  .  For  three-quarters  of  the  book  the  reader  admires  the 
cleverness,  the  capital  workmanship  only  :  he  closes  it  with  the  verdict  that  the  story 
is  not  only  clever,  but  that  it  is  far  more  and  far  better  than  clever."  —  Boston  Daily 
A  dvertiser. 

"  With  the  exception  of  the  delicately  written  sketch,  '  Is  That  All?'  none  of  the 
1  No  Name'  books  have  been  so  good  literature  as  '  Afterglow,'  the  latest  on  the  list ; 
and  the  qualities  of  this  story  stand  in  an  order  which  ought  to  gain  it  the  favor  of  the 
best  readers.  ...  In  fact,  the  simple  and  direct  narration,  and  the  treatment  of  inci 
dents  and  characters,  more  than  once  recall  the  master  of  modern  fiction."  —  The 
A  tlantic  Monthly. 

"  It  is  so  seldom  that  one  finds  in  a  recent  American  novel  a  positive  addition  to 
literature  that  the  issue  of  a  work  like  '  Afterglow,'  the  latest  volume  of  the  '  No 
Name'  Series  of  Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers,  merits  cordial  recognition.  The  book  is 
the  production  of  no  ordinary  mind.  .  .  .  Those  inclined  to  guess  the  authorship  need 
not  go  beyond  the  men  who  are  known  in  literature.  There  are  some  sketchy  features 
in  the  story,  but  there  is  a  firm  grasp  in  the  narrative  which  proves  the  hand  that 
weaves  it  to  be  that  of  a  master.  It  is  thoroughly  polished  in  its  satire,  and  the  wit 
in  which  it  abounds  is  of  the  keenest  character.  ...  It  is,  it  may  safely  be  said,  the 
production  of  one  of  the  'Atlantic  Monthly'  school  of  writers.  '  Afterglow'  is  not  the 
kind  of  novel  that  is  generally  designated  as  popular,  but  it  is  a  work  displaying  more 
talent  and  more  originality  than  any  of  its  predecessors  in  the  '  No  Name  Series,'  and 
will  be  a  standard  favorite  with  thoughtful  and  cultivated  people."  — Boston  Saturday 
Gazette. 

"  Whether  or  not  '  Afterglow,'  which  is  the  latest,  is  also  the  best  of  the  '  No 
Name'  novels,  is  a  question  upon  which  the  faithful  readers  of  that  excellent  series 
will  probably  differ,  but  there  will  be  no  hesitation  on  the  part  of  any  of  them  to  accord 
it  a  place  as  at  least  one  of  the  best."  —  ff.  Y.  Evening  Post. 

One  volume.    Bound  in  cardinal  red  and  black.     Price  SI, 00. 


Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  Booksellers.     When  not  to 
be  found,  send  directly  to 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Publishers,  Boston. 


NO    NAME    SERIES. 


HETTY'S  STRANGE  HISTORY. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "MERCY  PHILBRICK'S  CHOICE." 


"  The  critic  whom  I  have  already  quoted  — one  whom  long  residence  in  a 
foreign  country  has  made  a  more  dispassionate  judge  of  American  literature 
than  most  of  us  can  be — declared  it  as  his  judgment  that  '  Hetty's  Strange 
History  '  is  the  most  remarkable  of  recent  American  fictions.  Such  is  my  own 
opinion,  so  far  as  I  am  competent  to  judge.  .  .  .  The  field  of  great  fiction 
must  always  be,  after  all,  in  profound  emotions  and  strange  histories."  — 
7*.  W.  Higginson,  in  tlie  Woman's  Journal, 

"The  sterling  merit  of  the  author  of  'Hetty's  Strange  History'  is  her 
hearty  strength.  .  .  .  The  atmosphere  of  this  book  is  regal ;  it  is  a  moral  tonic 
of  the  wholesomest  sort.  To  walk  with  Hetty  is  to  breathe  imperial  air,  to 
don  the  royal  purple,  and  to  take  up  the  sceptre  of  the  world ;  only  for  a  few 
bright  hours,  but  it  is  a  noble  illusion  while  it  lasts. 

'  "The  superiority  of  this  story  to  the  author's  first, '  Mercy  Philbrick's  Choice,' 
is  very  marked.  .  .  .  Hetty  is  very  human,  and  makes  her  great  mistake  easily 
enough,  in  a  most  natural  and  human  way,  and  cures  it  at  the  right  time,  with 
out  any  foolish  ado ;  but  from  first  to  last  her  masterful  pulse  beats  to  a  noble 
rhyjthm ;  whatever  she  does,  she  does  worthily,  and  we  praise  her  at  every 
step. 

"  This  book  is  sure  to  be  liked,  because  it  brings  the  best  of  what  every 
aspiring  mind  —  no  matter  how  weak  now — reaches  after  with  intense  desire; 
and  it  is  impossible  to  go  through  it,  and  not  feel  at  the  end  that  its  society  has 
greatly  cheered  and  ennobled  one's  own  life.  It  is  by  far  the  best  of  the  '  No 
Name  Series.'  "  —  tl  Richmond,"  N.  Y.  Correspondent  of  the  Chicago  Journal. 

One  volume,  i6mo,  bound  in  cloth,  cardinal  red  and  black.     Price  $1.00. 


Our  Publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  booksellers.     When  not  to  be  found, 
send  directly  to 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 

Boston. 


ROBERTS    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS. 


NO  NAME  SERIES, 


The  "  No  Name  Series "  of 
original  Novels  and  Tales,  by 
well-known  writers,  to  be  pub 
lished  anonymously,  will  be.  is 
sued  at  convenient  intervals,  in 
handsome  library  form.  i6mo. 
Cloth.  Price  $1.00  each. 

Works  already  Published: 

MERCY     PHILBRICK'S 
CHOICE. 

DEIRDRE. 

IS    THAT   ALL? 

KISMET. 

THE    GREAT   MATCH. 

A     MODERN     MEPHIS- 
TOPHELES. 

AFTERGLOW. 

HETTY'S  STRANGE  HIS 
TORY. 

WILL     DENBIGH,     NO 
BLEMAN. 

MIRAGE.     By  the  Author  of 
"  Kismet." 

THE  WOLF  AT  THE 
DOOR. 

MARMORNE. 

The  Novels  in  this  Series  are 
having  a  large  sale,  not  only  on 
account  of  the  curiosity  attend 
ing  their  authorship,  but  because 
they  are  works  of  enduring  mer 
it.  Some  of  the  most  popular 
writers  of  the  day  are  engaged 
in  this  enterprise. 


TOWN  AND  COUNTRY 
SERIES, 

"  Books  should  to  one  of  these  four  ends 

conduce : 

For  wisdom,  piety,  delight,  or  use." 
SIR  J.  DENHAM. 

It  will  be  the  aim  of  the  Pub- 
listers  to  make  the  "  Town  and 
Country  Series  "  a  collection  of 
entertaining,  thoughtful,  serious 
works,  selected  from  the  choicest 
home  and  foreign  contemporary 
literature  ;  books  acceptable  at 
all  seasons  in  Town  and  Coun- 
try.  ^ 

Works  already  Published: 

BEN  MILNER'S  WOO 
ING.  A  Novel.  By  Holme 
Lee. 

FROM  TRADITIONAL. 
TO  RATIONAL  FAITH. 

By  Rev.  R.  Andrew  Griffin. 

A    WINTER    STORY.      A 

Novel.      By   the    Author    of 
"  The  Rose  Garden." 

SYRIAN    SUNSHINE. 

Notes  of  Travel.    By  Thomas 
G.  Appleton. 

JAN  OF  THE  WIND 
MILL.  A  Novel.  By  Mrs. 
Ewing. 

\fmio.     Cloth.     Price  $i  oo  each. 


The  books  in  the  " No  Name  Series"  and  "  Town  and  Coiintry 
Series  "  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  will  be  mailed, 
postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  BOSTON. 


PUBLISHERS'   ADVERTISEMENT. 


From  the  Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

THE    "NO    NAME    SERIES." 

"  LEIGH  HUNT,  in  his  '  Indicator]  has  a  pleasant  chapter 
on  the  difficulty  he  encountered  in  seeking  a  suitable  and  fresh 
title  for  a  collection  of  his  miscellaneous  writings.  Messrs. 
Roberts  Brothers  have  just  overcome  a  similar  difficulty  in 
the  simplest  manner.  In  selecting  "  No  NAME,"  they  have 
selected  the  very  best  title  possible  for  a  scries  of  Original 
American  Novels  and  Tales,  to  be  published  Anonymously. 
These  novels  are  to  be  written  by  eminent  authors,  and  in 
each  case  the  authorship  of  the  work  is  to  remain  an  inviolable 
secret.  "  No  Name  "  describes  the  Series  perfectly.  No  name 
will  help  the  novel,  or  the  story,  to  success.  Its  success  will 
depend  solely  on  the  writer's  ability  to  catch  and  retain  the 
readers  interest.  Several  of  the  most  distinguished  writers 
of  American  fiction  have  agreed  to  contribute  to  the  Series, 
the  initial  volume  of  which  is  now  in  press.  Its  appearance 
will  certainly  be  awaited  with  curiosity" 


The  plan  thus  happily  foreshadowed  will  be  immediately 
inaugurated  by  the  publication  of  "  MERCY  PHILHRICK'S 
CHOICE,"  from  the  pen  of  a  well-known  and  successful  writer 
of  fiction. 

It  is  intended  to  include  in  the  Series  a  volume  of  anonymous 
poems  from  famous  hands,  to  be  written  especially  for  it. 

The  "  No  Name  Series  "  will  be  issued  at  convenient  inter 
vals,  in  handsome  library  form,  i6mo,  cloth,  price  $1.00  each. 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS. 

BOSTON,  Midsummer,  1876. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY  _ 

"NO    N 

A     000  032  974     8 

THE  WOLF  AT  THE  DOOR. 

From  the  Providence  Journal. 

A  fresh  member  of  the  "  No  Name''  series  is  as  welcome  as  a  sight  of  the  dan 
delions  and  pansies  that  have  greeted  admiring  eyes  in  this  exceptionally  mild  winter. 
"The  Wolf  at  the  Do'of"  is  the  name  of  the  new-comer:  and,  though  usually  sug- 
pestive  of  misfortune  and  suffering,  readers  will  find  that  when  the  wolf  knocks  at  the 
door  Cupid  finds  entrance  at  the  window,  which  is  by  no  means  disagreeable.  The 
story  is  eminently  readable,  and  is  written  in  an  attractive  style,  happily  blending 
satire  and  cultivation.  Some  phases  of  Host  on  fashionable  life  are  capitally  carica 
tured,  the  charitable-society  mania  is  admirably  portraved,  and  the  description  of  the 
Boston  Bazaar  is  drawn  to  the  life.  .  .  .  ''The  Wolf  at  the  Door"  will  sust.iiu  the 
reputation  of  the  anonymous  family  to  which  it  belongs.  The  plot  is  slight,  but  spir 
ited;  the  conversations  are  bright  and  sparkling,  and  the  hand  that  holds  the  wires 
knows  the  world,  and  is  at  home  in  good  society  ;  while  good  humor,  sarcasm,  and  a 
pervading  refinement  give  a  piquant  and  delicate  flavor  to  the  attractive  pen-pictures 
that  bear  the  impress  of  being  drawn  from  life. 

From  the  N-  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 

"The  Wolf  at  the  Door"  is  intended  for  lic;ht  reading;  but  notwithstanding  this 
fact,  and  although  it  does  not  come  up  in  interest  to  "  Mercy  Philbrick's  Choice,"  the 
first  of  the  series,  it  serves  a  good  purpose,  and  represents  a  class  of  literature  morally 
and  lesthetically  far  above  the  common  level  of  the  popular  writings  of  the  day,  and 
for  that  reason  we  commend  it. 

From  the  Boston  Courier. 

The  whole  atmosphere  of  this  story  breathes  refinement  and  a  knowledge  of  what 
is  called  the  best  society.  It  is  an  unambitious  and  unforced  attempt  to  paint  the 
social  life  of  some  of  the  representative  families  of  Boston,  in  their  daily  pursuits  and 
recreations.  The  plot  is  very  slight,  but  the  characters  introduced  are  plainly  drawn 
from  life;  and  their  conversation,  without  being  astonishingly  brilliant,  is  that  of 
educated  people  who  have  travelled  much  with  observant  eyes.  It  thus  has  a  flavor  of 
"  culture  "  without  being  pedantic,  and  the  story  unfolds  itself  without  a  sensational 
contortion.  .  .  .  The  story,  as  one  of  the  famous  "No  Name  Series,"  does  no 
discredit  to  the  volumes  which  have  preceded  it.  Certainly  those  who  are  most 
pleased  with  its  unaffected  portrayal  of  characters  and  events  that  are  in  no  sense 
unreal  or- far-fetched  can  award  it  no  warmer  praise. 

From  the  Chicago  Inter-Ocean- 

This  is  a  capital  story,  bright,  gossipy,  and  pleasant.  The  characters  are  Bosto- 
nian,  without  the  starch.  The  heroine  is  a  charming  and  natural  character,  who  is 
cheated  out  of  her  fortune,  yet  wins  a  deserved  prize  in  the  matrimonial  lottery, 
—  a  husband  that  will  be  able  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door.  Messrs.  Roberts  have 
neglected  nothing  in  the  book  to  add  to  its  luck.  While  they  keep  to  the  title  of 
"  No  Name  Ser'.s,"  they  are  enti'ied  to  the  name  of  "  Lucky  Series,"  from  the  suc 
cess  of  the  books,  and  trom  the  symbols  of  horseshoe  and  four-leaved  clover  that 
ornament  the  cover.  The  book  is  anonymous,  but  the  author  might  be  proud  to  own 
it.  Possibly  the  author  of  "The  Queen  of  Sheba"  may  know  something  of  it. 

In  one  volume,  IGmo.     Cloth.     Gilt  and  red-lettered.    $1.00. 


Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  Booksellers, 
not  to  be  found,  send  directly  to  the  Publishers, 


When 


ROBERTS    BROTHERS,  BOSTON. 


16JMME  SERIES 


